Symmetry and Discord Crossover HPDavinci Code
by catchthesnitch
Summary: Sequel to the Harry PotterDaVinci Code crossover Elemental Alchemy. Robert and Tonks are back in Cambridge, and their romance is blossoming. Voldemort's dead, but someone else is waiting in the wings to exact revenge and ruin their idyllic lives.
1. Chapter One Dreams and Reality

**Symmetry and Discord**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Dreams and Reality**

It was annoying, the way some dreams replayed themselves. From Robert Langdon's perspective, the good, satisfying, or pleasant dreams were never subject to reruns.

It was always, and without fail, the nightmares.

Robert had the same particular nightmare on and off for the past two years, ever since he turned forty-three and saw his age for what it was – the middle of his life – mid life. _At least,_ Robert thought, _my mid life crisis is not manifesting itself in gaudy clothing, expensive cars, or hair plugs - not that I need hair plugs. _Rather, Robert's doubts and fears about his own mortality gelled and coalesced most often in his dreams.

The nightmare had always been the same – tedious and expected – but, on the other hand, somehow scintillating - like his rote lecture on the Divine Feminine in DaVinci's The Last Supper. He knew it well, but it stirred him up from within each time.

In this dream, Robert and a younger, beautiful, and rather endowed woman were climbing an Egyptian pyramid – or perhaps it was Mayan - Robert never knew for certain. Each time Robert struggled, panting and heaving, to catch up to the woman at the top.

Robert always awoke before he reached her – before he reached the top of the Pyramid. He was always jarred out of sleep by some frightening vision. Once, the woman disappeared, replaced by an ugly, snaggletoothed old man. Other times, Robert would be startled awake by the woman's increasingly nasty, and sometimes violent, comments about his graying hair, wrinkled skin, and his approaching lack of physical prowess.

Until ten days ago - Robert Langdon couldn't believe how much his life – and his dreams - had changed in that short span, that miniscule amount of time. The last ten days had altered his existence more profoundly than the past ten years.

_Ten damn days._

Ten days ago, Langdon awoke, dazed and confused, in a hospital in Edinburgh, Scotland. Robert's heart had stopped – he had suffered ventricular fibrillation – after a violent blow to the chest that broke three of his ribs. However, Robert was not kicked, was not punched, was not hit by a car, or pistol whipped. He was hit squarely in the chest with dangerous and potentially deadly magic – magic directly from the wand of a Death Eater – a follower of the most horrible, most feared wizard of recent time – Lord Voldemort.

Ten days ago, Robert did not even believe in magic. He did not believe in much of anything save what he could see, feel, touch, taste, smell, or otherwise measure. He was a Harvard academic, a scholar - not a believer. While he studied man's art as inspired by God, he did not allow his rational mind to believe in Him. While he wrote occult symbology books such as _The Symbology of Secret Sects_, he was not a Satanist. His faith lay in what he knew best – forms of human expression – forms with substantive bases and plausible explanations. Mythical nonsense like magic had no place in Robert Langdon's strictly ordered – and perfectly tangible - universe.

Ten days ago, Robert Langdon had no idea that his good friend, Paolo Zabini, was one of the rare human beings on this planet who could actually do magic. Paolo Zabini was a wizard, his son, Blaise, was a wizard, and his wife, Victoria, was a witch. Paolo was the catalyst who dragged Robert headlong into the world of wizardry, myth, and monsters – a world which, prior to that, Robert thought was reserved for Tolkien, Anne Rice, or Jennifer Roberson novels.

Ten days ago, it was Paolo who exposed Robert to possibilities and wonders unknown to – and hidden from - everyday people. The mysteries of magic and folklore – werewolves, potions, incantations, ghosts, enchanted trees, and living art, to name a few – became reality before Robert's amazed eyes. Unfortunately, however, it was also Paolo who, maybe deliberately - maybe not - placed Robert directly in harm's way, not just from the murderous Death Eater, but from Voldemort, himself. In the end, both Paolo and Blaise paid the ultimate price, giving their lives to save Robert from a horrific magical death. Robert knew that their sacrifices would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Ten days ago, bachelorhood had been the only religion that Robert had practiced devoutly. At that time, he had no suspicion that he would commit the ultimate sacrilege by meeting the woman of his dreams. He had no idea that he would bring home – all the way across the Atlantic – the very woman who would bulldoze the firewall he had built around his heart, the woman with whom Robert Langdon would fall in love, and with whom he could envision spending the rest of his life.

Moreover, ten days ago, Robert Langdon had no inkling that he himself had the seeds of magical ability. This discovery, and the others of the past ten days, had turned Robert's ordered world upside down and shook it – until he no longer knew which end was up.

While Robert was unconscious in the hospital, his familiar nightmare morphed into something even more sadistic, frightening, and disturbing. Three women, one Italian – whom he knew as physicist Vittoria Vetra; one French – whom he knew as criminologist Sophie Neveu; and one English – a witch named Nymphadora Tonks, now stood on the Pyramid's apex. All three taunted him, more lovingly this time. As before, all three women were younger, more vibrant, and more alive than Robert. Robert still felt his age, felt himself slipping clumsily off the face of the Pyramid.

Then, he heard a fourth voice. A cold, tinny, lifeless, mirthless voice – a male voice – a voice he could never forget, that of Lord Voldemort. This new voice did more than ridicule him. Lord Voldemort's voice was telling Robert that if he didn't make it to the top, all three of the women would be murdered. Robert cared more about these women than almost anything in life.

Despite Robert's best efforts, Voldemort turned his wand on Vittoria, Sophie and Tonks, murdering them with a single curse – the Killing Curse, "_Avada Kedavra_." A few hours before, in real life, this same curse, also performed by Voldemort himself, had nearly killed Robert. This same curse, meant for Robert, had taken Blaise Zabini's life.

_Ten - damn - days._

Now, ten days later, back at Robert's home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the dream resurfaced again, with yet another new permutation.

"Robert, you old man, climb up here and catch me before I make it to the top without you!" This woman's voice, the Englishwoman's voice, was soothing, comforting, and loving. Her words were not biting, not sarcastic, and not acerbic. She was encouraging him to climb.

"Old man?" Robert retorted. "We'll see who's an old man!" Robert scampered up the steps two at a time with ease and grace, pumping his arms athletically beside his body. As he climbed the steps, the sun waned into the horizon, clearing his view of glare, and allowing him to see the vision of beauty before him – only steps away.

"You're almost there, Robert," she said, "take my hand. I'll pull you the rest of the way up!"

"Pull me?" Robert smiled. "No need for that. See," he climbed up the very last step and fell into the woman's arms, "I made it just fine."

He had never before seen the top of the Pyramid in this dream.

"About time, mate," she grinned, her eyes now meeting his. They were wide, full of life, and deep brown. Robert felt as if he could stare into them forever.

"Yep, about time, Tonks." Robert's grin widened, and he bent his head to hers, brushing her lips slightly with his. He closed his eyes. "Let me kiss you, Tonks, please." Tonks did not refuse. The kiss escalated slowly and gracefully as Tonks' own lips parted slightly, inviting Robert to kiss her deeper, explore her more fully.

That was the moment that Robert awoke. Even in waking, Robert could feel a just-kissed tingling sensation around his mouth. Unfortunately, other parts of Robert's body were responding in kind – a fact that did not go unnoticed by Robert's bedmate.

"Dreaming again, love?" she asked, tracing small circles on his bare chest with her index finger. Sleeping half-dressed was one bachelor habit that the past ten days had not beaten out of him.

Robert yawned and blinked his eyes open. "Huh?" He scrubbed at his eyes, lifted his head, and looked at the woman prone beside him.

"Yeah," Robert said without embarrassment. "Frankly, I was dreaming about you, Tonks."

"Me?" She sighed sympathetically. "Not that nightmare again. The one you told me about?"

"Yes – and no. But, as you can probably tell," Robert's eyes darted toward the base of his torso, "it's not a nightmare anymore. No Voldemort. You don't die, and I made it to the top – to find you. If I remember right, just before I woke up, you kissed me." Robert grinned wickedly.

"I think you mean you were snogging me," Tonks gave a sly wink.

Robert winced. "How the heck do you know that?" He rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me. Legilimency. You saw it in my thoughts. That's an utterly foul thing to do to a sleeping man!"

"No," Tonks replied, sitting up. "You said it out loud. 'Can I kiss you, Tonks?'" She smirked, her mouth curving mischievously, "Langdon, you know damn well your gob don't ever stop running – you even flap it on in your sleep."

"Aargh!" Robert laughed and stealthily slipped the pillow from underneath his head. With a roundhouse motion he socked Tonks in the shoulder, knocking her down.

"Ooh, it's a pillow fight you want, not a kiss, eh?" Tonks picked up her pillow and responded in kind. The full impact of the heavy goose feather pillow hit Robert in the chest. He gave a slight "oof" of pain, but, knowing that he had started the ruckus, did not otherwise complain.

"Oh, sorry, Robert. I almost forgot about your broken ribs."

Robert rubbed at his offended chest. "It's not the first time that's happened and it probably won't be the last," he smiled. "Tonks?"

"Yes, Robert."

"Did I really say that in my sleep, about wanting to kiss you?"

"Affirmative. I heard it loud and clear."

"What did you… think… when you heard it?" Robert's eyes flashed.

Robert had been surprised when Tonks had agreed to leave her home among London witches and wizards and return to Boston with him – to live with normal people, or Muggles, as they're called. After that, he had been even more surprised that, even though they had been sleeping in the same bed for the past two nights, they had not had sex. In fact, they had not so much as kissed chastely for more than a second or two.

Not that Robert hadn't wanted to. However, there were ghosts of a non-magical sort haunting Robert's bedroom. He had made too many mistakes in the past. His last two relationships fizzled under the adrenaline-syndrome – developing quickly and in the heat of danger. Others failed because Robert was so enmeshed in his own life that he simply let them die before they could spark. Robert Langdon was famous – or rather, infamous - around Harvard Yard for deliberately not returning a woman's phone calls.

But this woman was different. If she had called he would have dashed to the phone like a lovesick teenager. He wanted to take this one slowly, one step at a time, and show Tonks all of the respect she deserved. _I don't want to lose her like I did __Vittoria__ and Sophie._

"I thought," Tonks said seriously, "it's about bloody time Langdon comes off randy with me."

_Langdon comes off randy with me… _That was all Robert needed to hear. In one swift, albeit slightly painful move, he reached his left hand behind Tonks' head, and pulled her close in towards him, closing his eyes, finding her lips with his and enveloping her in a searching, longing kiss.

Just like in his dream, Tonks immediately opened up to Robert's touch, parting her lips slightly with every pulsating, rhythmic move from his own mouth. Robert had waited a long time for this very moment – and it was everything he had dreamed it would be. With Tonks, the wall created by Robert's lifelong proclivity toward bachelorhood crumbled anew, the bricks disintegrating, layers of protective indifference falling away. _Are a bachelor's freedoms really worth a lifetime of loneliness?_

Needing air, Robert pulled back. He took in a gasp of breath and opened his eyes. As he exhaled, he felt his body relax into an ease that he had not felt in years, not even when he was with Vittoria, or even with Sophie. Robert had once thought, for fleeting moments, that he loved those women, that he truly desired them – that they would be the ones to finally tear down the bulwark.

From what he was feeling now with Tonks, he knew he had been dead wrong.

Before Robert could utter a single word, Tonks dove into him, renewing the kiss, and pushing his body gently back onto the bed. _Ouch._ His still-tender ribs produced such exquisite pain, but it paled in comparison to the pleasure he was otherwise feeling. Robert could feel Tonks inching atop him, her head and shoulders moving in a seductive serpentine pattern that matched the rhythm of her kisses.

Robert instinctively reached up and ran his hands along her back, underneath her ribbed cotton tank top, pushing it gracefully upwards and over her head, exposing the soft, delicate skin beneath. His hands found their way down the small of her back, and to the waistband of her sweatpants.

"Yes, Robert's randy." Tonks whispered teasingly as she gingerly straddled Robert's hips, "very randy."

Tonks' simple act of breathing Robert's name in the same sentence as the sexy Britishism, 'randy,' sent him into a paroxysm of desire, so much that the only response he could manage was nothing more than an ecstatic groan.

Robert knew this moment would come, and he wanted it to be perfect. For a split second, his rational mind took over, wondering if this was the right time, the right place, the right circumstance.

However, upon viewing the feral look in Tonks' eyes, as well as seeing her youthfully athletic body for the first time, his limbic system reasserted itself and quickly established its primacy – squelching any sense of propriety right out of Robert's frontal lobe.

Ignoring the pain from his complaining ribs, Robert sat up, gathered Tonks' lithe torso up in his arms, and pulled himself toward her now bared chest. With the feeling of her skin on his, Robert wanted to bury himself in her, to hold her and never let go, to touch, taste, smell, and learn every inch of her.

Taking a breath, he did just that. His scattered kisses and ministrations caused Tonks to throw her head back and moan, her hands kneading Robert's arms and her hips twisting slightly against his. _Good thing I swim every day, or I'd never keep up with her…_

Robert sat up further, pushing against Tonks until she flopped backwards onto the bed. Again, with some twinges, Robert pulled up onto his hands and knees over her, exploring her from neck to belly with his mouth and his hands.

The limbic amygdala in Robert's brain was urging him to, without delay, remove Tonks' sweatpants and…. However, his frontal lobe, taking over again, thought otherwise.

"Tonks," Robert said breathlessly, his mouth now pleasantly stinging, "do… do you… want to… can I… can we?" He was unable to prevent his index finger from running along the inside of her waistband. _Oh God_, he thought, _please let her say yes_…

Tonks smiled playfully. "Only if I get to go first."

As brilliant as Robert was, this actually took a moment to sink into his now id-addled mind. "If you… go first…oh!" Robert's eyes widened. _Randy, very randy at that._

Tonks wriggled from underneath Robert, and guided him gently so that he lay on his back. Just as Robert did moments ago, Tonks was now moving herself and her kisses over the entirety of Robert's bared chest and arms. Just as Robert did moments ago, Tonks moved her hand seductively underneath the waistband of Robert's shorts, teasing them downward with every stroke. As her hand moved lower and lower, Robert felt his yearning expand and solidify. He systematically tensed and relaxed his hip muscles, pushing himself against Tonks' hand, urging her downward toward…

"Hey, Langdon! Langdon, are you still sleeping up there? I know you're home!" A female voice shouted from the foot of the staircase.

Robert's eyes flew open and he scrambled off the bed. "What the hell?"

Tonks sighed and slumped face down onto the bed. "Your girlfriend?" Tonks' voice was muffled by the pillow.

Robert, still shocked, tugged his shorts back on and stood up. "Tonks - what day is today?" he asked resignedly.

Tonks continued to talk into the pillow. "Friday, and who the bloody hell is that stroppy thing downstairs?"

_Shit._

"What time is it?"

Tonks lifted her head and looked at the digital alarm clock next to her. "8:00 sharp." She dropped her head into the pillow again.

"Dammit. It's my editor." _My editor – my old, half-forgotten Muggle life. I don't think it will ever be the same again._ Robert sighed, pulling on a faded gray and crimson Harvard T-shirt and slipping barefoot into a pair of beat-up Nikes. "I set up this meeting before I left for Europe, and I completely forgot about it."

"So how'd she get into your house? Don't you lock the doors at night?"

"She has a key." Robert crossed to the door, opened it, and called out. "Just a second, Tasha. I'll be right down!" _Seems like a lifetime ago…. For at least two people, it had been…_

"You gave her a key to your house?"

"Tonks, please." Robert quickly entered the bathroom and began to brush his teeth. He spat out a quantity of foamy toothpaste and looked back at Tonks. "It's not like that. She watched my house for me while I was gone. Watered my plants, took in my mail, watched my bills, stuff like that. I wasn't magical back then, you know. I had to get someone to do that…"

Tonks gave him a wary look.

After another spit, Robert sighed and leaned against the vanity. "She's my editor, Tonks. That's it. Nothing more." More brushing, more spitting. "You know I'm honest with you, right?"

"Yeah," Tonks sighed. "Probably 'cause if you weren't, you know I'd hex you to oblivion and beyond."

Robert strode out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached up and stroked some tangles out of Tonks' long brown hair. "Hey, look at me," he pleaded.

"Langdon! Langdon are you coming down or do I have to come up there?" Tasha bellowed.

"Tash, if you come up here, I'm never giving you another chapter." Robert listened for a moment. "Well, that shut her up, didn't it?"

Tonks laughed weakly, turned her head, and propped herself up on one elbow, again exposing her chest to Robert. _God, she's amazing. She's so perfect. Damn that Natasha. Damn the Priory of Sion. Damn that stupid book_. "Listen, I'll give her the chapters and get her out of here." He traced a line from her shoulder to her hand. "Although, I'd love it if you'd come down so she could meet you. Will you?"

Tonks smiled and nodded. She sat up, reached for her tank top and pulled it over her head. "I'll be down in a minute."

Robert leaned over and caught the back of Tonks' head in his hand. He again pulled her into a kiss – a kiss which he broke off very quickly. "If I start that again, Tash will be waiting for quite a long time." Robert smiled and stood up off the bed.

"Robert Langdon! Aren't you decent yet?"

"Merlin's beard, Tash, will you just keep your pantyhose on?"

Tonks let out snigger of laughter, which quickly escalated into a fit of giggles.

"What, what's so funny?" Robert shrugged.

"You… you… you just said… you said…"

"Said what?" Robert found himself starting to chuckle, but he had no idea why.

"You said… Merlin's beard in the same sentence that you… you… told Tasha to… keep her…pantyhose…on!"

"Nothing like mixing up my Wizarding and Muggle metaphors, eh?" Robert laughed. "Okay, okay, just come down, please. This won't take long, I promise."

Leaving behind a laughing Tonks, Robert walked out onto the broad landing and leaned over the balustrade. "Hello, Natasha. The chapters are there on the counter. There are three hard copies and two disks. They're all yours. I'll talk to you in two weeks."

Tasha glared up at him from beneath. She was standing in front of Robert's brown leather sofa, her hands on her hips in a pose of pure annoyance. "Not so much as one word from you for ten days, and that's all I get? Not even a 'thank you, Tash'?' Not even a 'my plants look great, Tash,' or 'I had a great vacation, Tash'? I didn't even know you were back until I saw all of your belongings scattered all over the place down here!"

Robert smiled sarcastically. "Well, I am back, Tash. And thank you very much, Tash. My house was immaculate when I came home. The plants are very happy. My vacation was, well, interesting. Anything else?" Robert crossed the remainder of the landing, and trod down the curved staircase into the living room.

Tasha met him at the bottom, and wrapped him in a friendly hug. As usual, Tasha smelled of a combination of stale cigarette smoke and too-expensive perfume. This time the combination was strong enough to make Robert gag inwardly. "It's good to see you, too," she grinned, and playfully smacked him on the cheek. "So, what happened to you?"

She backed away from Robert, scrutinizing him from head to toe, a slight look of pity crossing her features. At the same time, her hands gripped tighter on her sleek black Prada clutch bag. Robert felt another slight lurch – this time of disgust at Tasha's shockingly red nail polish – which perfectly matched her overdone lips and the crimson pocket square sticking out of her severe, black pant suit.

_Funny, Tash never caused that reaction in me before! "_What do you mean, what happened to me?"

"Well, for starters, I'm pretty shocked to see you – the neat freak that you are - with your luggage and your jackets strewn all over the living room!" Tasha gestured to the numerous suitcases, bags, and loose articles of clothing.

"It's called jet-lag, Tash, a serious case of it, too. We… I just got back yesterday and I've been so knackered I haven't even unpacked yet," Robert said, walking into the kitchen.

"Knackered. That's a good one, Robert. Very British of you."

Robert ignored the comment. "So, why are you all spiffed up at this early hour?"

"Langdon, you are pathetic!" She chuckled and stared wide-eyed at him, expecting the light bulb to switch on. Robert merely shrugged and shook his head. "It's President Rudenstine's freshman breakfast today at University Hall. I have to go and hype the publishing house to all of those braniacs like you pouring into Cambridge with all of those potentially publishable dissertations!" She winked, and pushed an errant blonde lock out of her eyes. "Christ, Langdon, what is up with you? I mean, you go on sabbatical for one semester and you forget years of Harvard tradition? I guess when an event's not on your social calendar you ignore it completely?"

"Oh yeah. I forgot. Lost track of the days."

"You?" Tasha shadowed him, her Manolo Blahniks clicking on the hardwood floor. Robert reached for his near-empty can of Nestlé's Quik from the pantry.

_No, not today. With Tasha here, I think I'll need something stronger than Quik. Do I even have milk? _

He chose instead a bag of ground Starbuck's coffee and a filter, and placed them on the countertop. _If she doesn't quit soon, I'll be eating this coffee straight from the bag._

"Mr. Palm Pilot, lose track of time? That's impossible."

"Tash, I was in Scotland. Things are, well, very different up there. And some things happened that, let's just say, were an experience I'll never forget." Robert took the carafe from the coffee maker and filled it up in the stainless steel sink.

Tasha became quiet as she watched Robert measure out a precise amount of coffee into the filter. "You know, Robert, I was worried about you, especially after that close call of yours in Paris." She leaned against the opposite counter and crossed her arms over her chest. "And then last week I tried your cell phone and couldn't even get your voice mail." She paused and sighed. "But now that I've seen you again, I'm really worried. Robert, you look different somehow."

"I do?" Robert flipped the switch on the coffee maker. He busied himself sweeping the excess coffee from the countertop into his hand – anything to keep his back to Tasha – to avoid her gaze. "It's probably because I haven't shaved in two days – jet lag - and you know, all that rich Scottish food just doesn't agree…"

"No," Tasha cut him off. "It's not that. Not that at all. I mean, I've seen you look worse when deadlines approach or when you had the flu last year. I mean, you look really altered, Langdon. Changed, somehow."

"Maybe I am changed," he said, tonelessly, almost mysteriously. "Is the change for better or worse?" _God, I sound like Harry Potter_.

"Both," Tasha replied, flustered. "Neither. I'm not sure. Just - different. It's as if you're not the Robert Langdon I knew two months ago."

_If only she knew how right she was_, Robert thought.

"Level with me, Robert. Something's obviously not right with you. Why couldn't anyone contact you?"

Robert wheeled around. "You asked me two questions there, Tash. Let me answer the easier one first. For starters, I was somewhere smack in the middle of the Scottish Highlands – not exactly the prime spot to get a cell phone signal. But that didn't even matter because my phone broke outside of Notre Dame and I got rid of it before I got to Hog….Scotland. Second, please, Tash, get it through – I was on vacation. Va-ca-tion. Now to answer your first - people have new experiences on vacations, that's sort of the idea. These experiences change people, end of story."

"Robert, but you obviously brought back more than just some funny stories, photos, and a bunch of souvenirs - like most people. And most people don't go completely incommunicado from the real world – even on vacation."

Robert didn't know why, but his temper bubbled beneath the surface, and he felt a tension in his throat as the volume of his voice increased. "Don't you get it? I didn't want to hear from the real world. Heck, you know what, Tash? I wasn't even sure I wanted to come back!"

"But, why are you so…"

"Natasha, please! I don't want to talk about it. None of it. Not to you. Not to anyone other than those with whom I experienced it. It's too painful, too personal, too private, and it will stay that way."

Robert turned back to the coffee maker, and watched the brown liquid percolate and drip down into the glass carafe. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, breathed like Vittoria Vetra had once taught him – through his eyes - bringing his temper under control. As he reached up and pulled a mug out of the oak cabinet, he heard movement behind him.

He turned around and saw Tasha standing in the living room, behind one of Robert's plush, tan leather armchairs. She was holding a large, black piece of fabric with flashes of red satin – Robert's robes. The wizards' robes that his friend, Paolo Zabini, transfigured for him from one of Robert's prized Harris Tweed jackets.

When Paolo first transformed the jacket, Robert was horrified – the double-lined Tweed was his pride and joy, almost his trademark around Harvard Yard. At first, Robert looked forward to the moment when Paolo would change it back. Now, after his experiences at Hogwarts, and especially after the deaths of both Paolo and his son, Blaise, Robert wanted nothing to do with the old Harris Tweed. That garment was now an exquisite and luxurious set of wizards' robes – and that was how it would stay.

"What's this?" She held up the long, pleated garment. "This is beautiful, Robert. Not quite your normal taste, but beautiful. Where did you get it?"

Robert inhaled painfully. The memories of Paolo and Blaise's deaths were still too fresh, too raw, too close to the surface. "It was…," his voice cracked slightly, "a gift - from a friend." Robert made sure his tone said that he would speak no more about it.

She blinked rapidly, looked down at the robes again, and set them gingerly on the back of the armchair. Her eyes then flashed over something on the countertop back in the kitchen – the cryptex that Albus Dumbledore gave him before his trip home. This particular cryptex contained a Portkey – a magical way of transportation directly back to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This device held the promise of returning Robert to the place where his life had changed entirely.

"And, what is this?" Tasha lifted and held out the cryptex. "This is a new one. You didn't get this one in Paris, did you?"

"No, Robert said resignedly. _Is she going to interrogate me about everything in my house?_ "I got that one in Scotland." Robert turned his back to Tasha again, pulled the coffeepot out from its holder and poured a cup, purposefully failing to offer one to Tasha. "And please don't ask me any more about it."

"This one hasn't been opened, Tasha observed. "Do you know what's in it?"

"Yes, Tash. I know what's in it, and no, I'm not going to tell you." He heard Tasha place the cryptex on the counter.

"So then, what's this?"

_Christ, why did I leave that stuff out? Why did I pick now to become a slob?_ "They're all cryptices, Tasha. Those other ones I showed you in Paris. Those are the ones from the Priory of Sion which were put into place by Jacques Sauniere."

"No, not those," she said. "This thing. It looks like a maestro's baton."

_Blaise's wand!_ Robert rounded on Tasha. "Put that down right now, Tasha. You shouldn't be touching that."

"But what is it? What's wrong with me touching it?" She waved it in a four-four time pattern like a conductor – down, left, right, up. "Where did you get this?"

Robert again felt his ire bloom within him. "Tash, I said hands off, and I meant it. That is not a baton, and it is not a toy. Give it to me, now." He held out his hand for the wand. She did not relinquish it. "Tash, please."

"Just tell me what it is and I'll give it back to you." She teased, not noticing the rising flush in Robert's cheeks and his clenched fists. _What the hell's that disarming spell again? Or the summoning charm? Tonks just showed me. Yes, Accio_.

Robert ground his teeth. "It is none of your business what it is, Natasha. Now give it to me!" He thrust his right hand out toward the wand, the word, _Accio,_ ringing in his mind. To both Robert and Tasha's shock, the wand flew out of her hand and into Robert's outstretched one.

Robert stared at the wand, horrified. _Shit, I did that. Not only did I do that, but I did it without a wand – and with my mind! What the hell is happening to me?_ "It's none of your… business…," Robert mumbled on a breath, and placed the wand gingerly on the countertop. He looked up and blanched at the astonished look on Tasha's face.

"Robert, what did you just do?" She was now breathing heavily, her voice tremulous.

Robert exhaled. "Nothing. Nothing I want to - or even can - explain to you right now, Natasha." _I'm no more than twenty-four hours back home and already I've blown it – and to this nosy thing, no less._

"_Obliviate confundus_!"

Robert turned quickly and saw Tonks at the top of the stairs, her wand aimed directly at Tasha. Relieved, he looked back at Tasha, now grinning broadly, a vacant look in her eyes.

Tonks let out an annoyed breath. "Nice move, Langdon. You need to control yourself better around your friends until you get the hang of things. Loose lips sink ships, and all that."

"Yeah, that was a close one. I really don't know how I did that! I mean, I didn't even have a wand…she had it. I didn't say anything – just thought it."

"I saw," Tonks said, concerned. "Shush now. We'll have to talk this through later."

Robert waved a hand in front of Tasha's eyes. She continued to stare wide-eyed.

"Is that what I looked like when you modified my memory?"

"Nah, Robert. I didn't confund you like I did Tash here." She loped down the stairs, tripping slightly on the last one. "Oops. Ouch. But, I daresay you looked even more daft."

Robert pulled a face, but refused to comment. "How far back did you go? What's the last thing she'll remember?"

"Honestly, Robert, I did it so quickly, I'm not certain. I only know that she won't remember you doing magic." Tonks snapped her fingers in front of Tasha's face. "_Ennervate!_" With a sudden jerk, Tasha shook her head and looked around suspiciously.

"What just happened?"

Robert shrugged. "Nothing, Tash. We were just talking about the book. You just said how excited you were to have the first three chapters on the history of the Priory of Sion in your hot little hands."

"I did?" Robert, albeit still confused himself, smiled inwardly at Tasha's state of bafflement. "Oh yeah, I did." Tasha lifted a hand to her head. "I must have gone dizzy there for a minute." She looked up at Tonks. "Who are you?"

"Oh, Tash. This is Tonks. Tonks, Tash." Robert chuckled. "Tash and Tonks. Isn't that cute."

Tonks groaned, reaching out her hand to shake Tasha's. "My name's Dora, Dora Tonks."

"Natasha Bates. Pleasure to meet you, Dora." They shook hands. "You're English."

"And you're very observant," Tonks smiled. "Yes, I met Robert while he was on holiday. He asked me to come back with him – visit Boston for a while."

"And how long is a while?" Robert sensed a growing jealousy within Tasha – and, for some reason, relished it.

"Oh," Tonks shrugged, snaking an arm around the small of Robert's back and leaning into him intimately, "as long as he'll have me."

_Yes, Tonks. You catch on quick. Play it up. Play it up_. Robert planted a kiss on the top of Tonks' head.

"Well," said Tasha, "it was nice to meet you, Dora. And nice to see you again, Robert." She crossed to the end of the counter and gathered her purse. "I'll just… go now." She picked up the manuscripts and disks, turned and walked toward the door.

"Let me walk you out, Tasha." He jogged to catch up with her. He reached around her and opened the door, ushering her outside, onto the patio, and into the bright September sunshine.

"So, how did you meet her?" Tasha's voice became crisper, more professional, and the tap-tap-tap of her heels on the flagstone path sharpened and quickened.

"Through a mutual friend. We shared some adventures together over there."

"Adventures… Right. So, why did she come back with you? How long have you known her, a couple of days?"

"Ten days, actually." Robert and Tasha reached the end of the walkway. Robert leaned over and opened Tasha's car door for her. "Longer than my last couple relationships."

"Well," Tasha said as she clambered into her Volvo, "the last two women you met in the middle of some weirdly dangerous situations. I suppose I'm glad to see you taking it slower this time."

_If only you knew. _

"Robert." Tasha paused with her key over the ignition slot. "I need to ask you something."

Robert leaned into the open door. "What?"

"Do you love her?"

The question threw Robert for a loop. _Do I love her? Do I love Tonks?_ He thought a moment. "Natasha, I suppose for the first time in my life, I do. Or at least I'm growing to. I actually want to – and for me that's something."

Tasha frowned slightly. "That's funny."

"What's funny?"

Tasha's features morphed into an envious scowl. "I always knew you went for the Euro-Trash. I just never thought you'd have the cajones to bring it back to Cambridge with you." Tasha leaned into the door, clasped her hand around the handle and yanked it shut, nearly trapping Robert's hand.

Robert was silent in his shock.

Tasha jammed the key into the ignition, started the car, and rolled down the window. "I hope the little British hussy makes you happy, Langdon. I'll call you in two weeks with revisions to this…" she picked up the manuscripts and waved them, "…piece of crap. And I won't go easy on you this time."

Before Robert could respond, Tasha rolled the window back up, put the Volvo in gear and pealed noisily out of the driveway.

For a stunned moment, all Robert could to was stare open-mouthed after the black S70 as it tore up Concord Avenue. Tasha's words rang in his ears. '_I always knew you went for the Euro-Trash. I just never thought you'd have the cajones to bring it back to __Cambridge__ with you….' 'Little British hussy….' How dare she. How dare she insult Tonks that way_. For the third time that morning, Robert's rage blew up inside him. _How dare she_!

He stormed back up toward his Victorian home. Tonks was standing in the doorway leaning against the frame, cradling a half full cup of coffee. In his anger, Robert flew past Tonks, grabbed the cup out of her hand and drank the scalding liquid down in one gulp.

He fumed into the kitchen, letting out a deep, guttural growl – a combination of annoyance at Tasha and pain from the hot liquid scorching down his esophagus. Robert lifted the now empty white ware mug over his head, wanting more than anything to just throw it on the floor and….

"You know, Langdon, if you smash that cup there, I'll have to teach you how to use the repairing spell."

Hearing Tonks' voice, Robert slowly relaxed his body and exhaled, bringing the hand containing the coffee cup down, and placing the offending piece of crockery deliberately back down on the countertop. He gave a small, forced chuckle.

"I don't know why I let her get to me like that." Robert trooped into the living room, and flopped down on the brown leather couch.

"What did she say?" Tonks refilled the coffee cup and joined Robert.

"Just some viciously jealous things about you. I never knew…," Robert shook his head.

"What else did she say?" Tonks snuggled in close to Robert.

Robert swallowed. "She asked me if I loved you."

Tonks did not move. She did not flinch or react. "And what did you say?"

"I told her… I told her I … yes. That I was starting to. That I wanted to. She just… lost it, went nuts on me! First she said she was happy for me, then she called you Euro-Trash, I couldn't believe what she was saying! I don't understand that… that… woman, that…. Ah, screw her!" He reached over and pulled Tonks back toward him, again engaging her in an embrace and a kiss.

Unlike before, Robert's kisses were unceremoniously heavy and quick. He couldn't help but move and manipulate Tonks' mouth with an uncharacteristic level of roughness. He was still angry. He was still sore from his encounter with Tasha. He wasn't sure if he wanted to make love to Tonks out of desire for her, or out of hatred for the other woman. Now, in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to pound his emotions out – to sex his troubles away. _Euro-Trash. How dare she. _

He nearly tore at Tonks' shirt, yanking at her running shorts, wanting, needing to uncover her – to see, taste, touch her again. He strained within his own shorts, desperate for release.

"Robert, stop." Tonks pushed at his shoulders, hiking him at arms-length above her. "What are you doing?"

"I want to pick up where we left off this morning, Tonks. I need you," Robert panted.

"Not like this," Tonks frowned, and pulled herself out from underneath his body. "Not while you're all brassed off."

_Oh my God, she's right._ Robert crawled up from his hands and knees and sat, sinking back into the couch next to Tonks. He buried his face in his hands, and scrubbed at the growth of stubble around his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did that. Sorry you had to see that. Just hearing her insult you that way, I lost my temper."

Tonks smiled and lovingly rubbed between Robert's hunched over shoulder blades. "Ah, bugger it. It's okay, Robert. Really. I know you didn't mean it. But I wanted us – what we would remember to be perfect, you know? In my thinking, we should never make love unless we can completely focus on each other."

"I guess I made a pretty big mess of things this morning, didn't I?"

"Not your fault, Robert. You can't help it if you have a nosy-parker pillock for an editor who happens to be insanely jealous of your feelings for me."

"That sounds like a bad movie or the start of a really bad novel," Robert joked. "Thanks for bailing me out with that memory charm."

"Anytime, Robert. That's part of what I'm here for. To help you and guide you through this – this transition. I understand. It's hard enough just learning at your age that you're a wiza…"

Robert winced slightly. He didn't like to think that she was there for any reason other than his love for her. What was more, he still had great difficulty believing that he was, in fact, magical. It still sounded so strange, incredibly alien to be described with that particular word – wizard. Thus far, he didn't like the way it fried his proverbial hard-drive. _Tasha was right. I have changed – more than I possibly could imagine. I just wish I knew what to do about it._

"…I mean, that you can do magic, and it's harder still to control magic now that you know you can do it. And the topper is that it seems you can do it without a wand, which is very rare."

Robert nodded absently, yearning to change the subject. "Tonks, I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll take you to Rialto tonight for dinner, and then we can pick up where we left off this morning."

"That sounds wonderful Robert. It's a date." Robert wrapped his arm around Tonks, and she fell into his lap, her silky hair caressing Robert's legs.

"Tonks?"

"S'up, Robert?"

Robert felt more like an awkward teenager than a forty-something grown man. "When I said I was growing to love you, that I do love you, what thought crossed your mind?"

"That Remus owes me twenty Galleons."

"What?"

"Remus bet me twenty Galleons that I would be the first to tell you that I loved you. Since you said it first, I win."

"Well, what do I win?"

"What's your wager?"

"You," Robert grinned, picking up Tonks' hand and planting his lips in the tender palm. "Do I win? Do you… love me?"

"You have perfect odds that I do."


	2. Chapter Two The Beast and the Beauty

**CHAPTER TWO  
**

**The Beast and the Beauty**

The woman simply could not tame her hair. It was long, dark brown, and permanently frizzed from years of neglect, malnutrition, and being habitually twisted and matted between long, frail fingers. Brushing it child-like out of her gaunt and sunken face, she stared wildly, hungrily, at the woman lying before her, her skin paled in the candlelight. _I want to be beautiful like her again. Again… like her..._

_Very, very pretty_, the woman thought. _Very pretty, indeed. He knows her well. Knows her. He trusts her - trusts her opinion implicitly. Trusts her opinion. Genius. Genius of me to find her so easily. Genius of me to use her – physically and mentally - to my advantage. Genius to use her._

She turned to the servant cowering next to her. "I see light. Fix the curtain. Fix it. Now. I've seen enough daylight today. Enough today." Despite the now full daylight, the expansive and chilly room was pitch dark. The woman's maidservant ensured that all of the curtains were drawn and tightly fastened. After nearly a decade in darkness, she still, two years later, could scarcely tolerate the light of day.

Although only days had passed since the fateful event, she had planned her attack carefully – certainly, she had had time to plot. The woman had three targets. One she would crush with physical blows, the other, with emotional blows. The third she would capture alive – and use for a higher purpose – a far higher purpose. _There will be collateral damage – including this lovely thing. There will be damage_. Thus far, the stratagem worked like a dream.

The first target murdered the love of her life. The second - loved the one who killed him. The capture and use of the third was mere delicious irony. As insane as the motives would be to anyone else, they were perfectly rational to the dark-haired woman. _Symmetry – a curse for a curse. A love for a love. A body for a body. Makes perfect sense. Perfect sense_.

The woman lying on the floor stirred slightly. She was still unconscious, still fully clothed, and still beautiful, despite the ragged and wild condition of her own hair. She was attractive like the long-haired woman had not been in years. It had been years since the woman's own beauty was ravaged, years since she had been touched, loved, desired, years since…. _Yes, _the woman told herself, shaking the last thought from her head, _she is perfect. Perfect_.

The servant returned to the woman's side, carrying two large vials. One contained a blue, shimmering liquid. The other contained a greenish-yellow concoction. The servant held both vials up to her master. "The rest is ready, mistress. I had stores of it made months ago, mistress, just like you asked, mistress."

The mistress reached out and took both vials in her hands, admiring the handiwork. She held the blue liquid up in to the small chink of light that stubbornly sliced through the pall and caught sparkling dust motes within the immense room. "Yes," the woman's eyes widened and her lips curled into an insane smile. "These are perfect." The smile broadened. "I will have them. I will avenge. I will reach my goal. I will perform my service dutifully. Dutifully avenge. Dutifully perform." She turned to her servant. "And you will assist me. You will."

"Robert?" Tonks asked tentatively. She sat up from the couch and pulled one hand through her long, dark brown hair, her face contorting in an expression of slight disgust.

"Yeah? What's up?" He sat up along side her, watching her carefully.

"Would you care so much…," she stammered, "…if I, well, if I changed my look a bit?"

Robert's brow furrowed. "Why would I care? I mean, I think you're beautiful the way you are, but women change their look all the time. It's part of the female allure. In fact…" he pointed into the air, "in some cultures, the symbol for the Sacred Feminine is a triangle, whether point up or inverted. The triangle is also the Greek letter, Delta."

Tonks put on a face of mock confusion. "What does that have to do with anything, Professor Langdon, sir? Who gives a whit about Greek letters! What does that have to do with the feminine allure?"

Robert spoke playfully in his best teaching attitude. "The Delta, then, is the scientific and mathematical symbol for - change." He gestured, flipping his hands over, as if to somehow physically balance the two parts of his next statement like a set of scales. "Feminine – the triangle, equals change – the triangle. Symbolically, women are just meant to be chameleons!" Robert laughed, recalling the very form of Tonks' Patronus. "Seriously, Tonks, even if you did make your hair different, or your eyes different, you'd still be you. That's all I care about." Robert smiled gently, running his hand through her still bed-tangled locks.

"Well, when you were in Hospital, remember, I got rid of the pink hair to blend in."

Robert nodded. "Probably smart of you."

"I wanted to change back, but you told me I was pretty. I thought that this look was more … comforting to you," she shrugged.

Robert let out a single nasal chuckle. "Frankly, Tonks, I found you attractive the moment I saw you in that field. Pink hair, piercings, and all."

"That's good," she nodded, sighing, "because I hate the way I look right now."

"Why?" For the life of him, Robert couldn't understand why Tonks hated her looks. To him, she was a vision of beauty – perfectly symmetrical, heart-shaped features, flawless skin like porcelain, deep brown eyes – what is there to hate?

"My aunt, Bellatrix," Tonks let her chin sink into her chest, "I am the mirror image of my aunt, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. In fact, if we were the same age, you probably wouldn't be able to tell us apart."

_I'm sure I would_. "But what's wrong with looking like a family member? It's simple genetics. My cousin Martha constantly tells me that the older I get the more I'm the spitting image of my Dad – which I guess isn't such a bad thing. I got this dimple in my chin from him." Robert smiled encouragingly, running his finger over his stubble-covered chin cleft. _Thank God my personality is nothing like my Dad's…_

"Because, Robert, I despise my aunt Bellatrix." Tonks' features hardened with evident hatred. "She is, or was, a Death Eater. She was one of the most loyal followers of - I guess I can say his name now - Voldemort. She killed numerous witches and wizards, and even some Muggles in his name. She was his lover, in fact."

Robert's eyes flew open. "Voldemort's lover? Could a thing like that even love?"

"I wouldn't call it love – more like dark violent sex, I would venture. Anyhow, it happened a long time ago, before Harry Potter was even born."

Robert nodded his understanding.

"Yeah, my uncle Rodolphus - dodgy bastard - he used to call her his 'Bella Bella.' That was so sickeningly sweet it made me want to vomit. Bella Bella. I hated family gatherings where the Lestranges were there. Once he found out about her infidelity, he turned against her – and she turned closer to Voldemort."

Robert put his arm around Tonks' shoulders, and she slumped against his chest. He could feel her rapid breathing and see the quick rise-and-fall of her chest. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "And Sirius," she sobbed slightly.

"What about Sirius, Tonks?" Robert rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"She killed my favorite cousin, Robert. The only family member, other than my parents, who I really loved. Sirius Black. She murdered him two years ago. Stole him from me. Stole him from Harry."

"Yeah, I know Sirius was Harry's godfather. Sounds like he was an amazing man."

Tonks sniffed. "Beyond amazing."

"So that's why you want to change your look."

"For the past week, every time I saw myself in the mirror, I felt like I wanted to puke. I constantly saw Bellatrix staring back at me. Now that we're here, now that you're better, I need it to stop."

Robert inhaled deeply. "You should have told me days ago."

Tonks didn't reply.

"So, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I don't think the parti-colored hair would go over too well with your students, your artsy-fartsy friends, or other faculty members, would it?"

"I imagine it would be okay with the artsy-fartsies," Robert said, "but, if you wanted to go punky pink again, I'd still be proud to have you on my arm. Screw them."

Tonks giggled. "I wouldn't do that to you. How about something more conservative? My eye color for starters. What do you like?"

"Why does it matter what I like?" Robert shrugged. "It really doesn't. As long as it's you I don't care."

"Well, I do fancy Harry Potter's eyes," Tonks mused, "they're green. Very, very, green."

"Yeah," Robert said. "Just not so bright. Harry's eyes give me the creeps sometimes."

"Done." Tonks sat up, squeezed her eyes shut, scrunched up her face, and opened her eyes again. They were no longer a deep, muddy brown. Now, they were a bright, shining, and beautiful, but not quite emerald, green. "There."

_Now that was weird. Amazing, but weird_. _Wish I could do that with those pesky crow's feet_. "Perfect," Robert said. _Wow, they really are beautiful. _

"Now my hair." Tonks bounced slightly on the couch, becoming excited. She thought for a moment. "I have no idea."

Robert looked around his living room. On the antique wood and brass chest – being used as a makeshift coffee table – sat a three-month old issue of TV Guide. Robert pointed at the magazine. "That hairstyle's all the rage right now among the Harvard women. I swear, in my graduate Medieval Art History class last spring, just about every female sported that particular haircut."

Tonks picked up the squat magazine and stared at the group of six handsome actors and actresses staring back at her. "Which one, this dark-haired bird?"

"No," Robert pointed, "this one. With the blonde streaks."

Tonks pulled the magazine closer to her face, and peered at the smiling actress. "She's a right pretty one, isn't she?" Tonks eyed Robert suspiciously. "And her hair's the cracking style now?"

Robert nodded. "I call it like I see it. However, I warn you. Fashion has never been one of my areas of expertise. I can never be that flamboyant."

"I like it." Just as before, Tonks scrunched up her face and pursed her lips. After a moment, she shook her head quickly. When she finished, her hair was about four inches shorter, lighter in color, highlighted, and was cut in an angular frame of fringe caressing her face. She picked up the picture of the six friends and placed it facing Robert beside her face. "Did I get it?"

Robert eyed the picture, and then the result. "Yep. I think you did. Spot on." He fingered the bottom fringes of her hair, just at her shoulder level. "I'll just call you Jenny from now on – for Jennifer Aniston."

Tonks rose from the couch, crossed the room – tripping slightly over the end of the couch - and peered into the antique gilt mirror hanging over Robert's immense fireplace. She ran her hands through her hair, and peered closely at her eyes. "That will certainly do." She turned and smiled at Robert. "Thank you. Bellatrix is gone."

Robert stood and walked up behind Tonks. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled himself close, his chest pressed into her back. He studied their reflections in the mirror momentarily. Robert immediately noticed that his own eyes were a sharp blue once again – replacing the lackluster, weary, grayish haze from only days ago. _I never thought another person could have this effect on me – could make me so - happy_, he thought. He leaned his head forward, and gently kissed the exposed skin where her neck met her shoulder. "You're amazing, Tonks. Unexpected," another kiss, "unpredictable," another kiss, "and unfathomable, but amazing."

Tonks turned slightly, and found Robert's lips with her own. Robert had never remembered kissing - or wanting to kiss anyone more frequently - more passionately than Tonks. Her youth, vigor, and rough-and-ready charm stirred something within him, making him feel like he was once again a Harvard student, rather than an aging, tenured, professor. He wanted to stay feeling that way. For the third time that morning, Robert wanted nothing more than to love every inch of this woman.

But, he made a promise. He made a plan – and he would stick with it. It would be perfect.

He broke the kiss gently, and turned Tonks around to face him. She buried herself in his chest, breathing deeply and regularly. Robert couldn't suppress a smile. "Let's start the day over, shall we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Forget the interruption. Forget Tasha. Forget my anger, and forget Bellatrix. You go for your run. You were talking about wanting to start that up again last night. I'll have breakfast ready by the time you get back. Then I can show you Cambridge." He pulled away from her and headed toward the kitchen, talking to Tonks over his shoulder. "When you go for your run, if you stick to Concord Avenue and then take Garden where it meets up, you can head east past Cambridge Common and can catch Harvard – the Yard has some nice paths. The Fogg Art Museum is on Broadway just on the east side of the Yard. That's my territory."

"Can you write that down for me?" Tonks asked sheepishly, "I'll remember the route tomorrow, once I've seen it, but for now, the last thing I want is to get swallowed up by these bizarre Cambridge streets."

"Hey," Robert chided. "We East-Coasters pride ourselves on being able to navigate these skewed streets. They make perfect sense to me. Not like those Chicagoans who have to have everything laid out in a perfect grid in order to find anything. Rush Street runs on a diagonal - that throws them for a major loop." He took a pen and paper from the drawer by the sink and scribbled out a makeshift map. "Here," he handed the sheaf to Tonks, "this will help. Just stick to this route, and that will give you about a thirty to forty-five minute run right back here."

"Thanks," Tonks held up the paper, and pocketed it.

Robert opened the refrigerator door and frowned. Not much here. "Well, unless you want dry Rice Krispies for breakfast, I'll have to run to the store on the corner. I'll leave a key under the mat in case you get back before me."

"Sounds good to me," Tonks said, as she began a stretching routine. She pulled her arms over her head, twisted a few times at the waist, and then bent over, placing her interlaced palms flat on the floor between straddled legs.

Robert watched her intently, nearly forgetting where he was or what he was doing. Tonks turned and bent jackknife over one leg, and then the other, her leg muscles sinewy and well-defined. _My God…what did I do to deserve her_?

She pulled up, took a few deep breaths, and jogged over to Robert. She planted a kiss on his nose, turned and jogged toward the door. Wrenching it open, she bonked the corner of the door against her cheek. "Oof! Ouch!" She rubbed the offended cheekbone and groaned slightly.

"You okay?" Robert ran over to her. "Let me see." He inspected the damage. "No harm done. You look fine."

"Oh, I'm a clumsy bint, aren't I?" Tonks giggled, embarrassed.

"Yes, but it's endearing," Robert raised his eyebrows teasingly.

"Oh, you!" She gave him a playful slug on the shoulder, turned, and jogged out the door. Robert watched her run lithely down the flagstone path, turn left onto Concord Avenue, and disappear behind Mrs. Taylor's hedge row. Taking a deep breath, Robert stepped back and closed the door behind him. _What did I do to deserve her?_

Robert Langdon stood hunched over, his head cradled in his left hand and his elbows perched on the Corian marble kitchen countertop. He absent-mindedly twirled a pencil in his right hand, pushing it in a swift arc over his thumb with his index and middle fingers. This was a trick Robert invented when he was back at Phillips Exeter Academy, and it was something that irritated his teachers and professors over the years. Now, this habit annoyed his own students and colleagues – mainly because, try as they might, none of them could duplicate the feat without accidentally throwing the pen across the room or clumsily dropping it to the floor.

This was also something Robert picked up to keep his right-side-dominant brain occupied while reading something very tiresome and left-brained. In this case, Robert was reviewing the mundane shopping list he had just created.

"Eggs, skim milk, Evian, cherry tomatoes, Asiago cheese, peppers, bacon-slash-sausage-slash-ham-slash-whatever looks good when I get there, whole-wheat bread, strawberry jam, grapefruit juice, apples…" Robert straightened up, ran a hand through his just-showered wet hair, and thought for a moment. "That's enough for breakfast. I can get the rest later. What else…oh yeah!" Robert whipped the pencil back to writing position and scribbled. "Quik. Chocolate Quik. How could I forget?"

Robert tore the list from the "From the Desk of Robert Langdon" pad, and stuffed the paper into his back jeans pocket. He retrieved his wallet from the counter and shoved it into the opposite pocket. Once satisfied that he was ready, he headed toward the door.

But he never made it out the door.

The moment he pulled the portico open, Robert was first confronted, and then summarily knocked over, by a large, white blur.

Robert landed hard on the unforgiving wooden floor, the impact causing his chest to burn anew, and slid backwards a few feet before realizing what had happened. Still on his back, Robert peered up at the simple chandelier hanging over his entrance way – hanging rather drunkenly at the moment. Perched upon one of the arms was a beautiful, white snowy owl. The owl, which was carrying two letters in her beak, looked down on Robert with an air of annoyance and impatience, and hooted haughtily at him.

"Nice to see you too, Hedwig," Robert groaned, "but couldn't you have knocked or pecked or something first?"

Hedwig hooted again, dropped the notes unceremoniously onto Robert's face, and stayed rooted to her swaying perch.

Robert sighed resignedly, turned over on his stomach, and pushed himself off the floor. He stood and peered up at the great bird. "So, what are you doing all the way over here and how the heck did you get here?" He picked the letters up off the floor, peered out the door to make sure no one was looking, and shut it quietly.

Hedwig hooted a third time. She ruffled her feathers as if begging for sympathy (or at least an owl treat) for making such an awfully long flight.

"Come on down here. I'll find something for you." Robert crossed back to the kitchen, set the letters on the counter, and started rooting through his cupboards. He found an old – a very old – stick of overly preserved beef jerky from a camping trip two years ago. He peeled down the wrapper, twisted off a chunk, and offered it to Hedwig. "Here you go."

The bird swooped down and landed, clasping her talons into the back of Robert's reclining chair. _Well,_ Robert thought, _at least she picked the one that's not leather. _Robert approached Hedwig, who seemed to sniff at the beef jerky. Her eyes fluttered in what Robert read as pure owl disgust. She ruffled her feathers again, hooted, and resumed her place on Robert's chandelier. "Sorry, girl, it's all I have in the way of owl food," Robert looked in his pantry again, "unless you want some dry Rice Krispies?"

Again, Hedwig gave an indignant hoot, clicked her beak, and re-established her perch on the light fixture.

"Have it your way, then." Robert inspected the letters on the counter. One was written on plain, brown parchment, and the other on a bleached-white official looking stationery. Sighing, Robert picked up the white letter, broke the seal and opened it. "Bad news first, I guess, right, Hedwig? Great, just what I need now, news from the Wizarding world."

His heart sank as soon as he saw the seal on the top of the parchment letter. The Ministry of Magic. He read on:

"Dear Mr. Langdon:

As Minister for Magic, I wish to express my deepest thanks to you for your role in the final defeat of the Dark Lord. Truly, because of your efforts, a new era has been ushered in – one that we hope beyond hope to maintain as long as possible.

Mr. Langdon, because of your sacrifice, your valor, your sharp wit under intense pressure, and your bravery in battle…"

_What bravery_? Robert thought.

"… the Committee for Wizarding Recognition has voted unanimously to bestow upon you the Order of Merlin Third Class. While you, a former Muggle, may not know the importance of this award, it is one we hold with highest esteem. To be presented with an Order of Merlin in any class is one of the highest honors we at the Ministry of Magic can confer. We offer you this tribute with our full confidence and gratitude.

The Committee has also elected to award three additional Orders of Merlin: a Second Class to Ms. Nymphadora Tonks, a First Class to Mr. Harry Potter, and a posthumous Second Class to Mr. Blaise Zabini, for his selfless sacrifice in saving your life.

Mr. Potter has already received word of his recognition, and his Order will be awarded in a private ceremony. As we understand that you and Ms. Tonks are now residing in the United States, we will send your certificates and your medallions by separate owl within the next few days.

Again, Mr. Langdon, my deepest thanks and congratulations go out to you and Ms. Tonks. In addition, you have my most sincere sympathies for the loss of your friend, Mr. Paolo Zabini, and his son, Mr. Blaise Zabini. Although Mr. Paolo Zabini's role in the events leading up to the final battle are questionable, as are his loyalties, the Ministry has decided not to investigate further in order to preserve his family's integrity.

One more note, Mr. Langdon. As you were informed while you were hospitalized following the confrontation, one Death Eater was killed, and the remainder were captured. We have since learned, however, that one of the Dark Lord's followers had escaped Auror capture and is now at large. We at the ministry fear that this Death Eater is dangerous and mentally unstable. Given the circumstances, there is the possibility that she may come after you or Ms. Tonks. This is most true especially because, in the battle, Ms. Tonks, in the line of her duty, killed the Death Eater's spouse.

Please, therefore, be on close and vigilant watch for one Bellatrix Black Lestrange. If you see her, please send an owl or message by floo directly to me immediately. Your cooperation and assistance in this matter is most appreciated.

We at the Ministry hope that you and Ms. Tonks are settled and are doing well in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. We do miss Ms. Tonks, as she has been one of our finest Aurors. If there is anything you need, again, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Most truly sincerely,

**Amelia J. Bones**

Minister for Magic

Order of Merlin First Class"

Robert slowly lowered the letter back down onto the countertop. He tried with every nerve cell in his brain to digest what he had just read. _Order of Merlin? No investigation_? But Robert knew that wasn't the worst of it. _Bellatrix Black – Tonks' aunt, Voldemort's lover - escaped? Dangerous? Insane? Coming after Tonks? My God, not again. Please, please, please not again_. Robert read the letter again, feeling the blood drain from his cheeks a second time. He glanced over at the plain brown letter. "Maybe this one has good news."

He picked up the second letter and slit it open. Hedwig gave an approving hoot. "This must be from Harry, right?" He read the letter:

"Dear Robert:

Hello again from Hogwarts! The term is off to a great start, thanks to you. It has been a tough few days, though, but I think I'm adjusting much better now. Hermione and Ron told me they thought I'd come unhinged ever since Voldemort died, but I don't think so. They always over react when it comes to me, which is why they're my friends, I suppose. Well, just in case, I'm sorry if I seemed all wonky to you when you were in hospital. I assure you, if I was, I'm back to my old self again.

Congratulations, by the way. Professor Dumbledore told me that you and Tonks are getting Orders of Merlin! Brilliant! I'm getting my First Class in a couple of days here in Professor Dumbledore's office. The Ministry's keeping mum about it for a while, at least until the school year is over. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for that. It's all I need to have Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherin gits poking fun at me out of jealousy for something else. I can take it, though, have before.

Just take care of yourself, Robert, and please look after Tonks too. She's like family to me. Don't let anything well – Black - happen to her, okay? Do you know what I mean? I trust you, and I'm sure Tonks does too, so I'm not that worried.

Would you mind terribly looking after Hedwig for a day or two? You can let her out to hunt right now, I'm sure she'd be happy for it. Just don't let her bring any dead mice or frogs inside – it's not pretty when she does. All Hedwig really needs is a perch in your backyard. I'd appreciate that. She's a good owl. A little on the snarky side, but good.

When you and Tonks get over to Tituba's Crossing there in Boston, you can use the hearth at the Leaky Cauldron and floo her back to me in the Gryffindor Common Room. I've enclosed a small envelope of floo powder for you to use to send her back. I've checked, and your fireplace isn't on the floo network yet – but Professor Dumbledore is working on that. Don't worry, Tonks knows how to use floo powder and she'll show you how. You need to learn anyhow, don't you? Cheers.

Your friend,

Harry Potter

Order of Merlin First Class (that is so bloody brilliant that I can put that there!)

P.S. Hermione sends her love and Ron says hello."

Again, Robert set the letter down gingerly on the countertop. _Great, now I'm babysitting a bird. Wonderful. What the hell is floo powder, what about my fireplace? Where the hell is Tituba's Crossing?_ Robert shook his head and rubbed at his temples. _Nothing like pressure from Harry Potter to keep Tonks safe._ Robert felt a sudden wave of – what feelings they were he had no idea – but in his mind, they echoed of panic, bewilderment, and slight dread, mixed in with a touch of excitement and pride.

"I need to get out of here. Need to get some fresh air until Tonks gets home. She'll explain all of this." He looked up at the bird still sitting regally on his cockeyed hall lamp. "What do you say to a hunt, Hedwig?" Robert walked briskly through his foyer, opened the door, and peered outside. Seeing no one, he motioned to Hedwig. "Go on, girl. Go get yourself a nice mouse, or get that pesky vole out of my back yard, why don't you?"

Silently, Hedwig spread her wings, leapt off the swinging chandelier, and sailed with pure grace out the front door. Robert thought for sure the light fixture was going to either shatter against the ceiling or come crashing down on top of him. Neither happened, and Robert sighed in relief.

"Finally." Robert's stomach gave a loud, complaining, grumble. "Okay, okay, stomach, it's coming! Now I can get my head together, and concentrate on breakfast."


	3. Chapter Three Veracity and Deception

Chapter THREE

Veracity and Deception

The woman stared long and hard, her eyelids fixed in a permanent squint. The sun pelted her eyes now, and it stung fiercely. Having only been recently returned to the world outside, her pupils still adjusted to light slower than most. Although she was particularly sensitive to light, the new configuration of her eye muscles gave her a distinct advantage – she could see exceptionally well in the dark. During her years trapped in darkness, she whiled the time away often thinking of herself as a large feral cat, or some other nocturnal, carnivorous animal.

This animal's only instinct – its only goal was to sneak up on unsuspecting or sleeping prey and pounce tearing her quarry to shreds in a violent blur of bone, tissue, and blood. Her favorite quarry, at least in her recent fantasies, was standing right before her, waiting to cross a busy road – vulnerable, unarmed, and best of all, quite unaware of her presence.

The woman did not move. She simply watched – watched and studied her prey. Like her cat in the daylight, she was hunkered down, hiding from view, awaiting her moment, lying in ambush. She was waiting to decimate and destroy every molecule of the swiftly moving person in her line of sight. _Waiting. _

_Not now_, she thought. _Now is not the time. The time is not now. Keep waiting. Waiting. Watching. Keep watching. Soon. Soon, very soon. Not now. Must wait. First things_ _first. Things must come first._

Her victim turned a corner, and disappeared from her vantage. _Gone. But not long gone. Not gone long. I will see you soon. Soon, very soon. _

If there was one person Robert Langdon missed while he was in Europe, it was Mrs. Dresner. As a confirmed bachelor – albeit now, maybe a former confirmed bachelor – Robert had learned quickly in his youth to fend for himself in most domestic ways. In other words, in order to eat well, Robert had to learn to cook well. Thanks to Mrs. Dresner, he learned new culinary skills every day.

Mrs. Dresner owned and operated Granny D's Grocery, a block and a half from Robert's home on Concord Avenue. Although Mrs. Dresner's stock was not as extensive as a Boston superstore, and her prices were certainly not as low, Robert didn't mind. He valued the advice, the maternal banter, and most of all, the excellent produce and top-notch meat Mrs. Dresner stocked. She would also provide him with a new, hand-written recipe card every time he shopped there, and would often set aside the ingredients for that particular dish just for Robert.

In the weeks after finals – when he was knee deep in grading essays or whenever he was exceptionally busy all Robert needed was Granny D's. He would walk into the store, hand Mrs. Dresner his American Express card, and walk out with groceries and recipes enough for three days' worth of easy-to-fix planned meals. Sometimes, she would even surprise him with casserole dishes full of frozen zucchini-tomato pie, fruit and curry chicken, or homemade challah breads. Robert jokingly called these her MRE's – Meals Ready to Eat. All of Mrs. Dresner's grown sons had served in either the US or Israeli military, so she bristled indignantly at the comparison of her cuisine to bland military rations.

After visiting with Mrs. Dresner, Robert walked out of her store with both his vigor and the smile on his face renewed. Somehow, Mrs. Dresner's motherly attentions made Robert forget all about the troubles of the morning. On top of that, Robert had been inspired, his heart lightened, by Mrs. Dresner's charity to others.

_Walk into her store, and she takes care of you like family_.

Robert watched, a grin creeping across his face, as Mrs. Dresner freely gave a well-piled egg, turkey, and cheese sandwich and a large Milk Chug to a homeless woman. The woman thanked her profusely, and tried to pay with her last seventy-five cents. Of course, Mrs. Dresner would have nothing of it, and invited the poor lady back any time for more.

As the woman headed toward the door, Robert told Mrs. Dresner all about Tonks. As always, when Robert confided in her about his love life, her first question was, "So, _Bubulah,_ are you going to marry this _shaineh maidel_, or what?" For the first time since knowing Mrs. Dresner, Robert gave an answer other than an unequivocal, "no." Not only did the response shock Mrs. Dresner, "Oh, Bobby, _darlink,_ you're making me feel all _heymish_ inside, you are…" it shocked himself as well.

_Another brick falls. Ten damn days_.

Robert strode briskly up Concord Avenue, plastic grocery bags dangling from his fingers. His pace continued up his front flagstone walk. He set one handful of plastic bags down on the front stoop, fished his keys out of his pocket, and…

Robert found that the key was unnecessary. Slightly puzzled, he pulled up the welcome mat. The key he left for Tonks was still there. "Funny, but I know I locked this door," Robert muttered to himself. He set down the other handful of bags, and pushed the door open slowly. "Hello?"

He heard a muffled, yet definitely feminine, yelp, and a slight rustling noise. "Tonks, are you in there?" No answer. "Tonks?" Now worried, Robert pushed the door open with force and flew into the front foyer. "Come out. I know you're in here," he tried to sound threatening despite the flutters in his stomach.

Robert scanned the living room. "Come out now, or I call the police." Then he saw it, a slender, feminine set of hands emerged from behind and beneath his countertop.

"Robert, it's only me," Tasha squeaked, "don't call anyone, please? It's just me." She stood up the rest of the way, her hands still raised. She fished in her breast pocket. "I realized I didn't give your key back this morning, and I just came by to…"

"To let yourself in and have another snoop around, right, Natasha?" Robert let out an angry sigh, turned abruptly and collected his grocery bags from outside the door. Slamming the door with his foot behind him, he strode quickly into the kitchen, brushing past Tasha. He placed the bags on the countertop and began rifling through them. "You could have just called me, you know. You didn't have to come sneaking in here and…"

Robert froze. The letters. The letters from the Ministry and Harry sitting, out in the open, unfolded and quite readable on the marble countertop. _Damn. Damn my sloppiness,_ Robert thought. _I'm an idiot. I am a complete and utter dolt._ Robert prayed that Tasha was not in the house long enough to read them. On the other hand, her hiding place was right in front of the letters. _She had to have seen them. Damn it all to hell._ He tried to nonchalantly unload the remainder of the items. _Maybe she didn't see…_

"So, Robert," Tasha grabbed a bag and started pulling things out of it. "Where's Nymphadora?" she asked casually.

"Nympha…" Robert stared, his hand hanging over the sack opening. _Tonks introduced herself as 'Dora' this morning, not 'Nymphadora.'_ _The only place Tasha could have heard that is in the… ah, sweet Jesus, no_. He turned slowly and faced Tasha. "You read my mail, didn't you?" Robert blinked impatiently.

Tasha shook her head – perhaps too fervently. "No, I… I didn't. I just…"

"Please, Natasha, don't lie to me. You know how much I hate that. I'd be less angry if you read them than if you lied to me about it." Robert fixed Tasha with a glare – his father's glare – one that he knew darn well would send her into a tizzy. He often used it whenever he disagreed with her pushiness and somewhat flowery edits. "You already have me pretty sore from your little tirade about Tonks this morning. You're lucky I'm such an easy-going guy, or you'll really see me angry. And you won't like me when I'm angry," Robert joked, ending in a falsely-ominous voice. He lifted the eggs and milk from the counter and loaded them into the right side of the refrigerator.

The questions came pouring out of Tasha's mouth, rapid-fire, one after the other. "Robert, what the holy hell have you gotten yourself into? Is this some kind of new occult thing you're studying? Who are these people? What's a Ministry of Magic? Who is Voldemort? What happened to you? What's a Muggle?" Robert tried hard to ignore her, but the questions just kept coming.

Robert pulled his hands up in a sharp gesture, his palms facing outward. "Enough, Tasha, just stop asking questions." His voice caught in his throat. "Tasha, you – you are a Muggle and therefore, you should lay the hell off." He hefted the bottle of juice and the fresh produce bags and nearly threw the delicate tomatoes into the crisper. "You read something that was without question not for you to see. It was absolutely none of your God damn business. If I could make you forget it I would, but I don't know how to do that particular sp…" Robert blew out his breath, and slammed the refrigerator door shut.

"Spell?" Tasha folded her arms in front of her and leaned on the countertop. "Was that what you were going to say?"

Robert remained quiet for a long moment. He pressed his hand against the top of the steel refrigerator door, and put his full weight into it. He sank his head into his chest and stared at the floor_. I blew it again. I blew it. Langdon, you're not as smart as you think. Book-smart, but horribly naïve. She knows now, and there's no going back. Tonks isn't here to modify her memory. I have to explain it to her. I have to. Maybe she'll understand. I've trusted her with__bigger secrets before – the __Vatican__ Conclave, and the Illuminati Diamond – she was the only one I confided in about that and she hasn't breathed a word of it._ "I have to trust you, Tasha. Now more than ever, I have to trust you. Please, tell me that I can."

Tasha crossed the kitchen and placed her hands on Robert's shoulders. Robert expected to steel under her touch, but instead, he felt warm and comfortable. "You can trust me, Langdon. Not a word. Not a word to anyone. Anyone, I promise."

Robert turned and leaned his back against the cold refrigerator door. "Paolo and Blaise Zabini are both dead."

Tonks let out a gasp. "I remember them. Paolo was your best friend, your prize student! How? How did it happen? Was there an accident?"

"No, they were both killed – murdered. Paolo called me when I was in London and asked me to go to his place up in Scotland for vacation. You know that already. When I got there, it was … different … but it certainly wasn't a vacation." Robert looked around the room, seemingly searching for guidance. "Where the hell do I start?"

"How about this Order of Merlin thing. It sounds pretty big."

"It is," Robert said, "it's like the Congressional Medal of Honor, but it's given to wiz…," Robert still had difficulty saying it. "Wizards."

"And you got one of these medals."

_She didn't even flinch when I said, 'wizards,' not even a blink_… "Yes, apparently so." Robert pointed to the Minister's letter.

"What did you do to get that?"

"I'm not exactly sure. All I did was solve some puzzles, nothing else. I was just there. I didn't save anyone, or help anyone." Robert shook his head. All of the memories, all of the horrible images came flooding back to him. "Paolo was killed by this horrible – thing – and Blaise…"

"What happened to Blaise? He was always such a sweet kid."

"He did the wizard equivalent of taking a bullet for me, and died because of it." Robert bit his lower lip. "It wasn't just a bullet, not a bullet at all. I should be honest with you if I'm going to go this far. It was a curse. A curse that causes instant death. If it had hit me, I wouldn't be here talking to you right now."

Tasha gave a low whistle. "Did many other… people… die?"

"Too many, in my book. Blaise and Paolo were more than enough. Two too many. One of Voldemort's followers was killed too, Rodolphus Lestrange. And his wife, Bellatrix, she was a follower too, a dangerous one, I guess. She escaped, and now she may be after Tonks. That scares me above all, Tash."

"And what about this Harry Potter kid?" She pointed to Harry's letter.

"An amazing boy," Robert mused, "he was the one who ultimately got rid of Voldemort, or so I've been told. I was knocked out when it happened. Voldemort was horrible. Imagine a seventeen-year-old boy capturing and killing Saddam Hussein or Adolph Hitler single-handedly. Same idea, kind of. Voldemort was much worse."

Tasha flinched momentarily. "Was he – was Voldemort the one who…"

"Almost killed me, yes. Killed Blaise, yes." _Why the hell is she so calm about all this?_

"How did you end up in the hospital? Were you hurt?"

Robert rubbed his temples and clenched his eyes shut. "Tasha, I feel like the more I tell you the more psychotic you're going to think me. How much more of this do I have to explain to you?"

"All of it, Langdon. All of it. It's funny, but I believe you. If I hadn't seen these letters, I'd think you're ready for the loony bin, but, it's all right here in green and brown." She indicated the letters.

_She believes me_. Robert felt a modicum of relief. "One of Voldemort's followers – I have no idea who shot at me with a stunning spell. It hit me in the chest, and my heart stopped, okay? V-Fib. I nearly died because of it. Tonks got me to a hospital and I recovered just fine. A little worse for wear, a couple of broken ribs, but fine."

"One more question, Robert."

Robert blew out a breath. "Might as well. Shoot."

"Are you, really a… I mean, can you…"

"Am I a wizard? Can I do magic?" Robert scrubbed at his mouth and looked up at Tasha.

Tasha regarded him with a searching gaze. "That's what I'm asking you."

Robert closed his eyes and exhaled. "I don't know, Tash. I really don't. There are so many strange things going on with me right now I don't know. If it wasn't for Tonks, I don't know how I'd be able to handle it all."

"Is she magical too?"

"Very much so," Robert said, "Tonks is amazing. And, she's taught me a great deal – not just about magic. I can do things I couldn't do before – sometimes I don't even know I'm doing them, and it scares the daylights out of me, Tash. I mean, I'm forty-five years old! Why now? But you know, the more I think on it the more I wonder. How did I survive that fall into the well when I was a kid? How did I survive that jump from the helicopter last year – and without a parachute? How could I get past two lethally-trained assassins with my life intact? Impossible, right? Tash, there are things I've seen in the past ten days that would send you scrabbling up a tree – werewolves, dementors, living art, torturous curses and hexes, potions, floating candles, you name it. I never thought they were real until now."

Tasha blinked, but remained silent. Robert was grateful for the lack of interruption.

"You know, Tash, I am truly and honestly having real trouble wrapping my brain around this whole thing, this magic thing. However, the longer I'm with Tonks, the more I learn, and the more I do…," _Ten damn days_…"well, yes."

"Yes what?"

Robert was surprised at his readiness to finally admit the truth. He was even more surprised that Tasha was the one who brought it out of him. "Yes, Tasha. I'm a wizard, I suppose. I can do magic. Real, true, honest-to-God magic."

Tasha's eyes gave off a strange look. Robert couldn't tell if it was fear, excitement, titillation, or a combination of all three. "Show me."

"What?"

"I said, show me. Show me what you can do. I want to see for myself."

Robert had never been asked to perform magic before outside of training with Tonks. It had always been accidental or without his knowledge. He suddenly felt nervous and a bit sick. "I haven't been trained, and I'm not very good at it yet. I don't know if I can just show…"

Tasha reached around her and lifted Blaise's wand from the countertop. She handed it to Robert. "I take it this is what you need?"

"How did you remem… I mean, know that?" Robert fingered the wand, his nerves increasing.

Tasha's demeanor remained shockingly steady. "Wizards have wands, don't they? I just assumed that stick there was yours."

"No, actually, it was Blaise's." Robert sniffed slightly and turned the wand around in his hands. "It was Blaise's wand. His mother, Victoria, wanted me to have it."

"I'm sorry Robert." Tasha crossed the kitchen, reached her arms around Robert's neck and held him tightly. She still reeked of stale cigarettes, and the scent stung Robert's eyes slightly. Her words, spoken into Robert's neck, were muffled, but he understood every single one. "I'm so, so very sorry. It's okay, Robert. Everything will be just fine. Just fine. I promise."

When Robert felt Tasha stroke the hairs on the back of his head, he gently broke the embrace. "Thanks," he said weakly. "I guess you want that demonstration now."

Robert adjusted the wand in his hand, and aimed at the open bag of apples on the kitchen table. As he prepared to give the incantation, "_Accio, apple_," the door burst open, and Tonks ran in at full-speed.

"Robert, no!" Tonks yelled. She drew her wand from her sweatpants, aimed it at Tasha, and screamed, "_Obliviate! Stupefy_!" Before Robert could react, the combined spells hit Tasha in the back of the head, forcing her forward. Tasha slumped face-first on to the hardwood floor in a heap of black fabric and blonde hair.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Robert yelled. "Tonks, are you out of your mind?"

Tonks, panting, shook her head. "No, but I think you are, mate. What you think you're doing spilling the beans to her anyway? She's a bloody Muggle, Robert! Muggles aren't supposed to know about magic!"

Robert felt stupid and sheepish. "I got a letter from the Ministry today. She came in here before I got home. She read it, and had questions. How could I lie to her when she read everything in the letter? It was all there, all laid out for her."

"Three things, Langdon," Tonks held up three fingers. "One, destroy all wizarding correspondence as soon as you read it, especially if we're going to be living here among Muggles like this bint. Two, you need to learn the memory modification charm. No question about it."

"And three?"

"I saw you through the window. If I ever catch her sweeting on you like that again I'll give her a bat-bogey hex she'll never forget, and then I'll turn it on you as well. Clear?"

Robert laughed. "Crystal. So, will she forget everything, then?" _God, I hope she does. _

Tonks walked into the kitchen and knelt beside the unconscious Tasha. "I'm best at memory charms, but let's hope so, for your sake." Tonks looked up and eyed Robert wearily. "What's wrong?"

"I admitted it, Tonks. To her. I admitted it. I can say it now."

"Say what, Robert? What are you on about?"

"That I, Robert Langdon, am a wizard. Wizard, wizard, God damn wizard."

Tonks stood up and threw her arms around Robert's shoulders. "About time, love. About bloody time. But you do have a long way to go, remember that."

"I do," Robert said. "Can you revive her so she can leave and we can have breakfast in peace? I'm making omelettes and bacon."

"You're cooking?" Tonks asked, incredulously.

"Yes, I'm cooking, and I'm darn good at it too." The smile had returned to Robert's face, and he had Tonks to thank for it. "Do your thing so we can get the day started."

Tonks aimed her wand at Tasha, and for the second time that day, intoned, "_Ennervate_." Tasha moaned slightly. Robert knelt down next to her. "Tasha? Tasha, are you okay? You took a little fall there. Tasha?"

Tasha started. "Robert, what the…" She pushed up on her hands and got to her feet shakily. "Yeah, I'm okay. Clumsy today I guess, but okay." Tasha brushed off her suit. "What was I here for?"

"You said you wanted to return my key." Robert held out his hand.

"Oh yeah." Tasha fished in her pocket, retrieved the key, and handed it to Robert.

"Wotcher, Tash! You sure you're okay? Do you want us to take you to a hospital?" Tonks asked.

Tasha wheeled around. "No, thanks, Dora. I'll be…your hair!"

"Oh," Tonks' eyes flew open. "I, um, stopped at the salon before going on my run. Like it?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Tasha was, thankfully, still groggy from the stunner. Otherwise, stopping at a salon before an intense run would make no sense whatsoever.

"Thanks. Well, we'll see you later, Tasha. Before you fell, you said you had to get going, right?"

"Yeah, I have to get…going, Dora, thanks." For the second time that day, a dazed and confused Tasha collected her purse and stumbled out the front door. Tonks shut it behind her and turned again on Robert. The look in her eyes startled Robert.

"Langdon, you bloody idiot. I love you, but you're a bloody," Tonks walked right in front of him, snaked her arms around his middle, "ever loving," pressed her body close to his, "eejit," and kissed him soundly on the lips.

_I should be this foolish every day_, Robert thought. After a long moment, Robert's mind turned a one-eighty, conjuring up a frightening revelation.

_Tasha never asked about Bellatrix Lestrange._

_  
_


	4. Chapter Four Military and Civilian

CHAPTER FOUR

MILITARY AND CIVILIAN

Tonks was over the moon about Robert's cooking. Never since his sumptuous hotel dinner with Vittora Vetra in Rome had he seen a woman eat with such gusto. More so, her sheer enjoyment of his breakfast made Robert feel proud, warm, and appreciated.

"So, what's the plan for today, do you want to see Harvard?" Robert asked, "The Fogg's open today. I can take you over there, show you my office…"

"Actually, Robert, Professor Dumbledore told me about a place here in Boston called Tituba's Crossing. I'd like to go there for a little bit this afternoon."

Robert blinked. "Harry mentioned that, too. Tonks, in all my years living in Boston, I've never heard of Tituba's Crossing. What is that?"

"Remember I told you about Diagon Alley?" Tonks stood and collected the plates and silverware from the table. Robert nodded. "It's a place like that. It's magical, and it's only accessible to witches and wizards. In fact, what is great about that place, is it actually _is_ Diagon Alley."

Robert squinted. "What do you mean?" Robert, too, stood and began collecting the condiments. "How can Tituba's Crossing be Diagon Alley?"

Tonks scraped the excess food into the trash bin. "It's hard to explain. Kind of a spatial magic. Take the Leaky Cauldron, for example. Say, if Remus Lupin was at the Leaky Cauldron in London, and we enter the Leaky Cauldron here in Boston, we'd see him. We'd be able to shake hands with him and talk to him. Not many Americans go to the Leaky Cauldron, though, they prefer Madame Prynne's. Ollivander's wand shop is the same here as in London, so is Gringott's Bank, Flourish and Blotts, and Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes – in fact, the Weasley Twins just bought the rights to branch out of London and use space here in Boston. I think they're in all the major English-speaking wizarding centers now: San Francisco, Sydney, Chicago, and Toronto, too."

Robert shut the refrigerator and cleared his throat. "So, you're telling me that if we brought Hedwig with us, gave her to Remus at the Leaky Cauldron or wherever, Hedwig could fly home without having to cross an ocean? So_… that's_ how she got here!"

Tonks looked up from the dishes and regarded Robert for a moment. "Hedwig brought those letters? Yeah, I suppose so. You could say that."

"What do you need there?"

"Couple of things," Tonks opened the dishwasher and looked at Robert as if asking what to do.

"Just stick them in so the plates face inward. I'll take care of the rest."

"Well, I want to get a proper job here, so I'll need to speak to the USWPC and see if they'll take on a fully trained British Auror."

"USWPC? I'm almost afraid to ask."

"United States Wizarding Police Corps. It's actually a military-like branch of the FBI. It's kept even more secret than the location of the CIA headquarters in Quantico."

Robert winced. He knew exactly where the CIA headquarters was – it was not in Quantico and it was really no secret.

Tonks continued, "You'd be surprised how much your government regulates wizarding. Unlike in Britain, where wizards generally govern themselves, over here, it's different. There's checks and balances we don't have back home." Tonks placed some dishes gingerly into the machine.

"Really?" Robert was intrigued.

"Yeah, it's pretty spiff actually," Tonks continued, wiping her hands on a towel, "the FBI has the USWPC, the CIA has a wizarding intelligence branch, and your Congress has a subcommittee. There are two Senators and five Representatives in your Congress who are wizards."

Robert blinked, his mouth agape.

"Obviously, it's kept mum, and that subcommittee is kept secret. Also, there's a Cabinet position no one knows about – the Secretary of Magic – appointed by every President since Washington. The current one is Secretary Jane Lodi-Poynette from Wisconsin. President Bush appointed her just last year after the previous one resigned. She's like our Minister of Magic – regulates everything magical within the United States. She has more power than any other Cabinet member, believe it or not."

"So, you mean to tell me that Dubya – our right-wing-religious-conservative man of a President knows…" Robert leaned against the back of a chair, the trailings of shock beginning to rise within him.

"About us? Yes. He has to, whether he likes it or not. The existence of these government agencies is passed down from President to President – has been since Washington. He and the directors of the CIA and the FBI are the only ones who know about them on the Muggle side of politics. Otherwise, they're hidden, given different names in the directory. Most of the FBI agents think the USWPC is like a militaristic X-Files group, investigating paranormal activities. They all think they're nutters."

"But what _about_ the USWPC? What if they arrest someone? Wouldn't our justice system know…."

"Nope," Tonks said, "checks and balances there's even a separate court system, separate jails. The judges are all appointed by the President and have to meet the approval of a majority of the other sitting judges, the members of the subcommittee, and the Secretary of Magic."

"So," Robert challenged, "where is this Court? Where is the office of the Secretary of Magic? It can't be in Washington. Can it?"

"Not in Washington," Tonks grinned, "In Chicago. For separation and secrecy's sake, everything wizarding in the US is centered in Chicago."

Robert was incredulous. "Chicago? Yeah, right. Where?" Robert stood and crossed his arms on his chest. "I know that city like the back of my hand, and I've never seen…"

"Of course you haven't! It's hidden from Muggles, Robert! Do you know the One East Jackson Building?"

Robert's face now gave away his utter disbelief. "Yes," he said slowly, "but, that's DePaul University – a Jesuit Catholic school – that's where the law school is! It can't be in there. In that building? A Catholic Church-run University? Where?"

"Ten floors below the basement."

Robert rolled his eyes. "The basement is the Music Mart, there's no other basement in that building."

"Exactly."

Robert remained silent, his arms still folded on his chest. His eyes darted in rapt contemplation, trying desperately to understand what Tonks had just told him. "How do you know all of this?"

"Auror training. We have to know the governmental makeup of the UK, the US, Canada, and Australia before we can move on to other countries, and before we can finish training. Aurors have to know who to turn to and where to go if we're in another country and we're in a bind."

"Okay," Robert scratched his head, resigned, "you want to meet with this wizarding corps. That sounds great. What else do we need to do at Tituba's Crossing?"

"Well, for starters, we should buy some floo powder if Dumbledore's going to get your fireplace on the network. Even more important, you need to get a wand of your own. You can't learn magic using someone else's wand. Mr. Ollivander will set you up right with one. And you need to open an account at Gringott's, change some American money to Galleons, and start collecting interest."

"What's the interest rate?"

"On a savings vault, not too great. Probably between fifteen and twenty percent per annum."

Robert's eyes flew open. "Twenty percent?"

Tonks looked sympathetic. "Yeah, a pittance, I know. Those goblins are very stingy."

Robert furrowed his brow and frowned. "No, Tonks! That's an incredible percentage rate! Most Muggle savings books only pay out about two percent at best! Hell, I'll sell all my stocks and CD's and transfer it all into that account right now!" Robert pointed upstairs. "Get up there and get showered. I'll finish down here. Let's get going!"

The drive from Cambridge to Boston should have taken a total of ten minutes, but with Tonks' enthusiasm about Robert pointing out every Harvard structure they passed along the way, it took forty-five. Robert drove so much that he actually had to stop for gas on the corner of Cambridge and Broadway, after driving Tonks around Harvard Yard five times. It was as if Tonks was trying to memorize every building in the yard – to become quickly acclimated to Cambridge society.

Not that he minded – in fact, he loved her even more for it. Robert had spent the last twenty or so years of his life in this college town, and he was extremely proud of it. Cambridge was a vibrant, beautiful place, and the Harvard area made it famous.

Once Robert was finally able to pull Tonks away from the Yard, he turned southeast, crossed the Longfellow Bridge on Main Street, and headed into downtown Boston on Charles. Hedwig, perched in a magically makeshift rattan cage in the back seat of the Saab 900S, hooted with mild panic as they crossed the bridge.

_I hope that noise doesn't mean she's making a bird mess on my leather seats…Bird mess…Oh, wonderful._

Robert knew these streets extremely well, and he cheerfully pointed out places of historical interest, such as Beacon Hill, the State House, and Boston Common.

Of course, Tonks being a Brit, understood very little of the significance of these places. Robert heaved a great sigh and rolled his eyes when Tonks told him that she wanted, more than anything, to see the site of the…

"Boston Tea Party?" Robert asked, incredulously. "Oh, come on Tonks. There's so much more here!"

Tonks stood her ground. "No, Robert, I want to see it."

"But why? That's all the way down in the Fort Point Channel."

"Because I want to see the place where a bunch of Colonist nutters wasted tons of perfectly good Darjeeling over something as paltry as a little tea tax. That's why. You Americans make no sense at all, you know."

Robert pursed his lips and glared at Tonks. "That's hitting below the belt, limey, you know that. And you your people went and closed down their most lucrative harbor in the Colonies over that paltry little tea tax. I'd call _that_ nutters. No wonder we won the war."

He stopped his Saab at a stop light, pounded rhythmically on the steering wheel, and sang, "No taxation without representation. No taxation without representation. No taxation without representation!"

Tonks chuckled, covering her eyes. As Robert continued his ersatz tirade, Tonks pointed surreptitiously to the vehicle next to him. Robert stopped abruptly, looked to his right, and grinned, blushing. "Uh, hello officer."

Hedwig's frantic hooting from the back seat sounded something like a fit of giggles. Tonks, herself laughing, turned and glared at the great owl. "Hush, you."

The motorcycle policeman gave Robert a sarcastic smile and wiggled his fingers in a wave. "History lesson, sir?"

"Uh, yeah," Robert choked out, "she's English." The cop nodded. Robert rolled his window back up, sank down in his seat, and pulled an embarrassed face. "Thanks, Tonks. Thanks a lot."

When Robert heard the angry sounds of beeping behind him, he looked up and realized the light was now green. Instead of making the left turn onto Beacon Street, he continued, begrudgingly, south down Congress, toward the God blessed Boston Tea Party.

After Tonks had her fill of telling horrible Colonist jokes, and when she saw how really boring and uneventful the site was, she and Robert climbed back into his Saab and headed back north. "Where is it we're going again?"

Tonks pulled a sheaf of paper from her jacket pocket, unfolded it, and read the address. "Eighty-four Beacon Street. It says here its near Boston Common by the Soldier's Monument."

Robert squinted slightly as he turned onto Court Street. "I know that area, and there's nothing called Tituba's Crossing there. Eighty-four Beacon Street. By the Soldier's Monument. What kind of place are we looking for?"

Tonks scratched her head. "Well, in London, the entrance to Diagon Alley is a pub. So I'd presume that we're looking for a pub here as well."

Robert could think of only one pub on Beacon Hill fitting that description. He squinted, thinking hard for a moment. "No, that's impossible. It can't be there. Not that place."

"Why not?"

"Tonks, did you ever watch American Muggle TV?"

"Yeah, my dad – he was Muggle born was a newscaster on Satellite One, so I'd watch the American sitcoms that came on before the news report."

Robert turned his Saab left from Tremont to Beacon. "Ever watch a show called _Cheers_?"

"Yeah, with Sam Malone and that stroppy Diane and that pub in the basement of a building, and everyone said, 'Norm' when that chunky guy sauntered in. They were always drinking and getting good and squiffy."

"Well," Robert said, as he approached Eighty-four Beacon Street. There it is." He pointed at the faux antique sign hanging from the ornate black wrought-iron fence. "The Bull and Finch Pub – otherwise known as Cheers."

Being a Friday early afternoon, Robert had little trouble finding parking along Charles Street up Beacon Hill. The normal rush of daytime traffic and evening tourists was all but gone, leaving the area somewhat deserted. Robert and Tonks walked hand in hand back down the Hill toward Boston Common. Robert carried Hedwig's cage awkwardly.

_Heavy damn bird._

"Here it is." Robert stopped at the top of the cement stairs leading down to the pub. "Once we get in there, where do we go?"

"It's a lot like Diagon Alley. We go out the back, and then, it says here, there's a door on the other side of the alley that only we can see – and this is the only way to get to the alley. That should be the door to a place called Madame Prynne's. We just go in there, and there we are Tituba's Crossing." Tonks looked at Robert, concern showing on her face. "When we get in there, to Bull and Finch, I mean, should we have lunch or a beer or something, make it look like we're actually there for something other than just passing through?"

"Not necessary," Robert waved it off, "people walk through there all the time. I don't think we should stay, actually especially with bird brain here. There's a gift shop in the back. We can just say we're there for a t-shirt, and no one will think anything of it. This is such a touristy place – I'm really surprised this is the entrance, but on the other hand, it's perfect, isn't it? Lots of traffic in and out, lots of people just passing through. Brilliant."

Robert and Tonks headed down the stairs and through the entrance. Tonks had expected to see a sweeping, open room with a square bar in the middle. She deflated slightly when she saw that the Cheers in real life looked nothing like the television version. "Now that's false advertising, that is."

Robert laughed. "Everyone says that. This place is actually more typical of an old Boston pub than _Cheers_ on TV. They needed an open set for that show. Couldn't exactly fit cameras in these little hallways, now could they?"

Despite Tonks' disappointment, she was fascinated by the place. She was even more despondent when they reached the back door and entered back out into the sunlight. Just as the note said, there was a door immediately opposite the alley to the back of the Bull and Finch. The door was made of the same bricking as the rest of the alley walls, and the sign saying, "Madame Prynne's" was very faint and rather ethereal.

Robert pushed open the door for Tonks, and it swung inward upon a shining, immaculate, expansive pub littered with numerous round, antique-looking mahogany tables. The matching mahogany bar stretched the length of the back of the pub, and the rear wall was covered in odd-shaped and strangely colored bottles – all of which were polished to a brilliant shine.

Robert felt his mouth fall open, and he felt compelled to set Hedwig unceremoniously on the floor – to which the bird hooted crossly. The place was filled with lunching patrons, some of them wearing robes, others Muggle clothes, and others, military uniforms. He simply couldn't believe how many witches and wizards there were in Boston. _I never would have guessed – I honestly thought I was the only one. Glad to know I'm not alone._

As Tonks entered the room, Robert was startled by a loud scraping noise – caused by numerous chairs being pushed back at once. Hedwig squawked and rustled her feathers in her own auditory distress. At least twenty of the patrons, all in crisp blue uniforms, rose to their feet in unison, dropping their forks, spoons, or what have you to the tables with a loud clank.

One of the uniformed men shouted in a loud, barking voice, "Attention! Superior officer present!" The rest gave a deep, forcible, "Four-oh!" and then presented – and held onto sharp, American salutes.

Robert did a double take as he watched Tonks snap to attention herself, placing her open-faced right hand against her right eyebrow – the British salute.

Robert, for some reason, felt as if he should salute as well. "Tonks, what the…?"

She whipped her hand down in a sharp gesture, and in her own booming voice yelled, "Wotcher, men! As you were. Back to mess." Each of the uniformed persons within the bar sat back down at their tables, lifted their glasses or forks, and resumed their meals or conversations.

Robert looked Tonks over – from head to toe – in utter amazement. "That … all that…that was for you?"

"Yes," Tonks said, slightly embarrassed. She walked toward an empty table near the bar and sat down. Robert followed suit, Hedwig again in tow. "As an Auror, I outrank most of the officers here. The USWPC runs on a military-style organization. We don't – I mean I don't have a rank per se over there. I'm just an Auror, but if I were to take a job here, which I hope to do, I'd come in as a Major or at least a Captain. I have more extensive training than they do here, and my years at Hogwarts count toward that."

"So, you mean to tell me that you outrank every officer here?"

"In this pub, yes, probably not in the entire USWPC. I imagine I'd have a Colonel or a General to report to. They must have somehow known I was coming today. I'm not even sure how they knew it was me. Oh well, Robert, I've learned not to ask anymore."

_Yeah, me too_. Robert shook his head in utter awe and admiration. "I never knew you were a military mucky-muck…I'm impressed. I'm very, very impressed. I feel like I should call you Major Tonks from now on." He grinned wickedly and then sang, quite off key and in a terrible David Bowie impression, "Ground control to Major Tonks….Ground control to Major Tonks…."

"Don't," Tonks chuckled, giving Robert a slight shove, "stop that nonsense this minute, Langdon, or I should have to report you. I'm a civilian as an Auror, and I hope to keep that civilian attitude, even if I do work for the USWPC. I'm definitely not the military type."

"So I've seen," Robert joked. Before Tonks could slug him one in the shoulder, a short, dark-haired, round-faced officer approached their table.

"Permission to join you, ma'am?" He saluted sharply.

"Wotcher, Captain. No need to ask. Take a seat." Tonks smiled warmly. "And no military stuff. No more saluting, please. I have the feeling I'm going to get my fill of that sooner or later."

The officer sat down and extended his hand, offering it to Tonks. "Captain Eli Dresner, USWPC. Your commanding officer, Kingsley Shacklebolt, asked me to come and meet you here today about you coming on board with us for a while. I'm a senior investigator and I'm also a recruitment officer. I understand you're a fully-trained Auror. We'd be honored to have you on our side."

She extended her own hand and shook the Captain's heartily. "Nice to meet you, Captain, and thank you. I'm Nymphadora Tonks, but you probably already know that."

"Yes, ma'am, I do, and it's a pleasure to meet you, as well."

Tonks bristled slightly. "Crikey, Captain. I'm not Ma'am – that's my mother. Please, call me Tonks." She pointed ceremoniously to Robert. "This is Robert Langdon."

The Captain again offered his hand, which Robert accepted. "Eli Dresner, Mr. Langdon. Pleasure to meet…" Eli's voice trailed off suddenly, and he gripped Robert's hand tighter. "You're not the Robert Langdon who works at Harvard and lives up there on Concord, are you? Not _that_ Robert Langdon, the symbologist?"

Robert blinked. "Yes, that's me. Why?"

The Captain's manner loosened up considerably. He clapped his left hand over Robert's right, enveloping Robert in a vigorous grip. "Then, you know my mother! She talks about you all the time, especially since you were in the news last year with that Vatican stuff, and especially now since she heard about your achievements at Hogwarts…"

"Your mother – knows me?" Robert scrunched up his face in bewilderment. As he did so, his eyes landed on the Captain's name plate, and the light bulb switched on. _Dresner… Good Lord, Mrs. Dresner a witch? "_Mrs. Dresner? Helena Dresner? The owner of Granny D's Grocery, is your mother?"

"One and the same. And I tell you, she adores you. My brothers here in the U.S. and I, we're all jealous, especially when she makes her sweet challah bread for you."

Robert leaned over the table and whispered. "But then that means that Mrs. Dresner, she's… she is a…a…," the word stuck in Robert's throat.

"Witch, yes," the Captain smiled. "And you don't have to whisper about it, not in here, at least. You never knew, I suppose, just finding out yourself about magic. When you did find out you were magical – _oy vey_! Then, to top that, mother saw your name and read about what you did over there in Scotland in the _Salem Sun_, and she had a conniption fit to end all conniption fits. She got all _verklempt_ on us she was so proud of you, that you actually learned that you were magical. She couldn't wait to talk to you about it – in private, of course, not at the store."

Robert leaned back on his chair and rubbed his temple. "But I've known her for twenty some years."

"Robert," Tonks interjected, "you've known yourself for forty-five years and you just found out about your own magic. Why is not knowing about Mrs. Dresner so strange?"

For a rare moment, Robert Langdon was struck speechless.

After listening to some extended police talk between Tonks and the Captain, Robert stood up from the table. "Listen, Tonks, it sounds like you two have a lot to talk about. Why don't I go to the Leaky Cauldron, and take care of our friend here," he motioned to Hedwig's cage, "and go get my wand. I can be out of your hair for a good forty-five minutes or so, and you can meet me back here."

"Are you sure, Robert?" Tonks asked.

"Positive. You two need to talk business, and I'm just a third wheel here. Simply point me in the right direction."

The Captain stood and pointed to the entrance on the opposite side of the pub. "There. Just go out that way and that'll lead you right out onto the Crossing, Mr. Langdon. Ollivander's is two doors to your right, and the Leaky Cauldron is a block to your left."

Robert smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Captain. Much appreciated." He hefted the cage and turned to walk out.

"Robert!" Tonks stood and rummaged in her bag. "You'll need Galleons to buy your wand. I don't think Mr. Ollivander takes Muggle money."

"I can just go to Gringott's, right? Exchange some?"

Eli and Tonks shared a cagey glance. "Er, uh, Robert…" Tonks made a disgusted face, "I wouldn't go in there alone for the first time. Let me go with you when you exchange your money."

"Why? It's a bank. What can be so frightening about a bank?"

"Trust me, Robert, you don't want to meet the goblins on your own without someone who's been around the block with them. They're awful."

"Goblins…that bad, eh?" Robert's face showed trepidation. Tonks and Captain Dresner nodded simultaneously. "Okay, then. Where else can I change money?"

Tonks pulled a small sack of coins from her bag. "Take this. You can't change money anywhere other than Gringott's. Your wand – it's on me, darling. Call it a…" she searched for the word, gesturing airily, "welcome to the wizarding world present." She chucked the money sack at Robert, who caught it deftly.

"Thanks, Tonks," he shook the bag, "this means a lot to me."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved her hand, "there should be about seventy Galleons in there, your wand should cost about twenty, so buy me something nice with the rest."

"Deal." Robert pocketed the coin bag, and exited the pub.

The scene he walked out onto reminded Robert of a concert fair in Milwaukee, Wisconsin that he attended when he was a college student. The small, cramped alleyway was extremely crowded – teeming with witches and wizards of seemingly every dress, age, color, and nationality, slowly pushing their way through from store to store. Where the outside world of Boston was nearly deserted on this Friday afternoon, Tituba's crossing was alive and bustling. The people were as colorful as those he saw on Platform Nine and Three Quarters only days ago – the day his amazing journey began.

_Ten days ago…_

Wanting to send Hedwig home as soon as possible, Robert turned left and headed toward the Leaky Cauldron. As he walked up the street, he was enraptured by the various storefronts, all displaying unique and rather odd wares for sale: broomsticks in Quality Quidditch Supply – _oh, so that's Quidditch_; strange candy and ice cream in Madame Malkin's; wizard's robes, magic books, cauldrons, magical animals, potion ingredients, and most enjoyable, wizarding jokes in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Despite his fascination, Robert was relieved to finally find the Leaky Cauldron. He entered the pub, which was much older, and obviously dustier and dirtier than the more modern and more posh Madame Prynne's. _No wonder the Americans prefer Prynne's._ Robert thought it unbelievable that he was, by simply crossing the threshold, literally stepping out of Boston and into London, England.

_I will never get used to this._

Robert immediately found the barman, who introduced himself as Tom, and asked for help with sending Hedwig home. Tom, recognizing the owl immediately as that belonging to Harry Potter, obliged Robert with gusto.

Robert pulled out the envelope of floo powder Harry had sent him, and with detailed direction from Tom, released the floo powder into the overlarge hearth, stating clearly, "Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts!"

Robert didn't know what to expect, but he certainly did not anticipate that Hedwig would go up in a flash of green flame. Robert jumped back from the fireplace, fell over a chair, and knocked into one of the long trestle tables.

"Holy crap!" Robert exclaimed. "What the…what just happened?" _My God, did I kill the bird?_

"Ain't you never seen floo powder before, sir?"

"Uh, no," Robert stammered. "What happened to her? Where did she go? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, sir. She went where'er you sent her, sir. From the sound of it, you sent 'er back to Hogwarts." Robert continued to gape at the now empty fireplace. "You is a wizard, ain't you, sir?"

"Yes, I'm just new at it, I guess." Robert sighed. "Thank you, thank you very much…" Robert eyed the fireplace again with growing suspicion. "Do…do _people_… travel that way, too? In a pillar of fire, like that?" Robert couldn't help but think of Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca's spectacular suicide on the balcony of St. Peter's Basilica nearly a year ago.

"All'a time, sir."

"Is it…is it safe?"

"Perfectly. Only one or two accidents in the last hun'red years."

After convincing himself that Hedwig was actually safe and back in Harry's possession, Robert staggered out of the Leaky Cauldron – out of England and turned right back into Boston and Tituba's Crossing.

_Tonks will never, ever get me to travel that way. I'll go in an elevator, I'll go in a helicopter for Christ's sake before I set myself on fire like that. That is just crazy!_

Robert walked in pure astonishment and continued shock over the mechanics of floo powder so much so that, before he knew it, he found himself at Ollivander's Wand Shop. He looked up, rather startled that he had missed the majority of the Crossing in his upset about yet another magical oddity.

_I'll never get used to this. Never, never, ever._

He peered in the window, and pushed the door open. The store seemed deserted. The walls were lined, floor to ceiling with racks containing long, rectangular boxes of every color imaginable. He approached the counter and peered into the back of the store. Just like in the front, every bit of the walls contained small, blocks of colored cardboard boxes – each box containing a wand.

Robert turned and walked toward one of the walls. He gingerly pulled out one of the boxes, and opened it. Inside, wrapped in a plain, white muslin cloth, was a crooked-looking wand made of a dull blond, knarled wood. _This looks nothing like __Blaise__'s wand…_ Robert reached his hand inside the box, and curled his fingers around the base of the magical instrument.

Before he could lift it, a voice directly behind him stunned him, causing him to drop the entire box, wand, muslin and all. "I wouldn't touch that one if I were you, Mr. Langdon. It is definitely not for you."

"What…what?" Robert wheeled around, visibly startled. "I'm sorry, I just…. How did you know my name?"

"That Muggle curiosity will take some time to train out of you, I see, Mr. Langdon." The man standing before Robert was very old, wizened, and obviously quite clever. He was thin and hunched over slightly, but still had an air of youthful vigor about him. His hair was short and shocking white, the stark color carrying down into a pair of to long mutton chop sideburns. His eyes were equally as striking – pale white blue with dark circles around the irises. Just this man's appearance compelled a feeling of great respect within Robert.

The wizard bent over to pick up the mess.

"No, sir let me, please," Robert knelt down, gathered the spilled wand and box, and handed the entire package to the wizard. "You…you must be Mr. Ollivander."

"One and the same, Mr. Langdon." Mr. Ollivander set the box and wand on the counter, folded his hands, and looked Robert over consideringly, as if measuring him up. "I knew you'd be coming, and I am quite glad to see you. I just finished fashioning a rather unique new wand that I am convinced will be perfect for you."

"But, Mr. Ollivander," Robert wasn't even going to ask how he knew he was coming…somehow, everyone in the wizarding world knew him, and he suddenly knew how Harry Potter had felt, "why can't I just use the wand I have?"

"May I see it, please?" Mr. Ollivander held out a slender, wrinkled hand.

Robert reached into his coat pocket and removed Blaise's wand. With two hands, he gingerly relinquished it to the wand maker.

Mr. Ollivander gasped, and Robert thought he saw the hint of tears in the old man's eyes. "Twelve inches. Ebony. Mermaid hair core. This is one of mine, Mr. Langdon. I know it well. With this composition, it undoubtedly belongs in the Zabini family. If I'm not mistaken, this very wand belonged to Master Blaise."

Robert sighed. "Yes. His mother gave it to me after Blaise died."

Mr. Ollivander's face suddenly hardened, and anger overtook his otherwise placid features. "Was murdered, you mean. Tell it like it is, son, he was murdered."

Robert was taken aback. "Yes…yes sir. He was… murdered."

"He died to save your life."

"Yes, he did." Robert was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with the conversation.

Mr. Ollivander remained quiet for a moment. As suddenly as his anger sparked, he calmed again. The wand maker smiled sadly, and handed Blaise's wand back to Robert. "A noble thing, that boy did. A very noble thing."

"Yes, sir. But, why can't I use…"

"Mr. Langdon. Every wizard has a wand tuned to his own magic. I've always said that the wand chooses the wizard, and I believe strongly that it is true. In this case, Blaise Zabini's wand, while very powerful, mind you, is wrong completely wrong for you. The elementals are incorrect. Wide of the mark, they are. This wand is without your proper, individual balance – it is completely water dominant – something Blaise was, and you definitely are not."

"But, frankly, Mr. Ollivander, I've always considered water my element. I love the water. I'm a diver, a swimmer, and a water polo player. I know the water like a fish does."

"You don't understand, do you, young man?" Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "Wait here. I'm quite certain I have the proper instrument for your use." Mr. Ollivander turned and disappeared into the back store room. Robert, still unsure, placed the ebony wand back into his pocket.

After a short few minutes, Mr. Ollivander re-emerged from the rear, carrying a bright blue box. "This, young Langdon, this is yours, I believe." Mr. Ollivander opened the box, and moved aside a piece of green shimmery fabric, revealing a highly-polished, pale-white and red wand. "Twelve inches. White Birch and Redwood. Dolphin bristle core."

Robert smiled. "White Birch is the symbolic tree of my home state, New Hampshire. I used to climb one in our back yard when I was a boy."

"Like I said, Mr. Langdon, you certainly did inspire this creation." Mr. Ollivander winked knowingly.

Robert curled his mouth in slight confusion. "That's wonderful, the birch wood, but, a Dolphin…bristle? I didn't think dolphins had any hair."

"When they are first born they do. As they grow older, they shed the hair. At birth, the dolphin calf is infused with its mother's magic. The bristles, therefore, are very powerful and are perfect for carrying human magic – for the right human, of course."

"Dolphins are magical?" Robert was fascinated. "Did you know, that my colleagues and students, they call me The…"

"Dolphin? Yes, I did know that. That is what gave me the idea for this wand. I also understand that you conjured a dolphin-shaped Patronus."

Robert nodded, again without asking how or why Mr. Ollivander knew anything at all about him. "But what about dolphins and magic?"

"Dolphins are more magical than we are. They just hide it better." Mr. Ollivander gave a curt smile that told Robert he would say no more on the subject.

"You mentioned elementals. A dolphin is a water creature, why is that any different than a mermaid?"

Mr. Ollivander lifted the wand from the box and studied it intently as he spoke, turning it over and over in his hands. "Dolphins are marine animals, yes, Mr. Langdon. However, while they are drawn physically to the water, and need it to survive, their actual, their spiritual if you will element is _air_. They are therefore, a combination of both – _water_ and _air_. Dolphins breathe air, they soar through and play in the air. Not only that, young Langdon, but a dolphin's personality traits as we know them are purely of the air elemental.

Dolphins are thinkers – rational beings. They excel in teaching and mentoring, have a strong intellect and an insatiable curiosity. At the same time, they can be arrogant, vain, initially aloof, and extremely naïve. On the other hand, they are affable, tranquil and jovial creatures, ones that befriend and love loyally and passionately." Mr. Ollivander paused, allowing the information to sink into Robert's mind. "Does that sound like anyone you know?"

Robert let go of a single chuckle and lifted the corner of his mouth in a knowing smile. "I think you just described me to a T, Mr. Ollivander."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" The wand maker handed his product to Robert. "Take it, and try it. I assure you, this wand is for you."

Robert grasped the wand by the redwood handle. Like Blaise's wand before, Robert felt a flow of energy – of immense power – through the wand, into his hand, up his arm, and through his core. Except, this time it was…different. It felt more comfortable, more like a true extension of his own body, his own mind…his own… magic.

"You feel it don't you, young Langdon."

Robert gripped the wand tighter, and nodded slowly.

"Try a charm, a simple one. Try a summoning charm."

"But I'm really not good at summoning charms yet," Robert winced. "Things end up hitting me in the face every time I summon them…" _Except this morning_, Robert thought.

Mr. Ollivander fixed Robert with a fatherly look, wordlessly telling Robert to simply try.

Robert looked around the room, and found a book laying on a bench near the door. He aimed the wand, and concentrated. "_Accio, book_!"

Unlike Robert's prior attempts at the spell – which sent the object hurtling in a jagged, stuttering line toward him, this time, the book flew gracefully in a long arc, landing softly and easily into Robert's outstretched left hand. Robert stared at the book, and the wand, and back to the book in complete incredulity. _I did that. And I think I did it right!_

"Keep this wand with you at all times, young Langdon. It is your protection, it is your weapon, and, Merlin forbid you need it for that purpose, but it can also be your lifeline."

"I understand, and I'll take it, Mr. Ollivander. How much do I owe you?

After a few more stops, Robert met up with Tonks back at Madame Prynne's. As he entered the pub, he saw Tonks and the Captain rise from their chairs, shake hands, and part ways. Tonks turned and, upon seeing Robert, flew at him and threw her arms around his neck.

"Wotcher, Robert!" Her embrace sent all of Robert's packages including a bag containing a pound of floo powder, some kind of magical water plant he was talked into buying at the apothecary's, a box of sweets, the wand, and a wrapped shirt-sized box flying and landing scattered on the pub floor.

"Oof! Ouch! What's all this for?" Robert enveloped himself in Tonks' embrace. "Whatever happened here, I'm happy for it."

"I got the job!" Tonks released Robert and did a quasi-happy-dance, attracting frightened stares from some of the remaining USWPC officers. "I start on Monday and I'm coming in with the rank of Captain, with promotion to Major in a month!"

Robert clapped his hands and pumped his fist in the air. "Yes! I knew you'd get it! Now we have a real reason to celebrate tonight." Robert knelt down and began picking up the packages, clandestinely keeping the larger parcel out of Tonks' sight. "I got my wand. Here it is. You can look at it in the car."

"Excellent!" Tonks took the blue wand box from Robert and slung her arm around his waist. "You know, Robert, you mentioned some place called Rialto for dinner tonight, right? What kind of food do they have there?"

"It's Italian – Florentine, actually why?"

Tonks pursed her lips. "Hmmm, I was hoping to try something…more exotic."

"Exotic, like how? Thai? Indian? Burmese? There's a great African place where you sit on the floor and…"

"No," Tonks bobbed her head and rolled her eyes upwards, "I can get that lot anytime back in London. It's just that Asian and African restaurants, and especially curry places, are a dime a dozen over there. No, I was thinking more along the lines of your American version of curry."

"American version of _curry_?" Robert was at a loss.

"Well, there's not much curry over here, and back home we have it all the time. In the UK, there's not much, well, there's not really _any _Mexican food, and over here, it's pretty much all over the place. Did that make any sense?"

"So, you're telling me you want Mexican food, then." Robert chuckled and nodded with approval. "I know just the place, and it's not Taco Bell. Your wish, my dear, is my command." Robert paused, and grinned sheepishly for a moment. "Can we please go to Gringott's now? I'm really, really dying to get in on that twenty percent interest rate."


	5. Chapter Five Affection and Abhorrence

Chapter Five

Affection and Abhorrence

The evening was bright and starry, with hints of a waning moon. Robert and Tonks sat on the front porch swing, neither of them speaking for a long while. They simply enjoyed each other's company, enjoyed the sensation of their hands clutched together, and enjoyed the sheer prospect of the evening to come.

Robert closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet, leafy scent of the September dusk, commingled with Tonks' gentle, decidedly feminine, perfume. Tonks' clean, fruity scent reminded him of when he was a child in New Hampshire, when he would steal his mother's freshly-cleaned linen off the line, and use it as a holder for just-picked apples from his neighbor's tree. _Sweet memories. Sweet memories to be made. _

At 9:30 sharp, a long, black, limousine pulled up in front of Robert's home. Tonks saw it and her eyes lit up. "Is that for us?"

Robert groaned slightly. "Yes, it is." He blinked. "When I called for a car, I thought we'd get one of those smaller, airport jobs – a Continental, maybe. Not a super-stretch. Just something so I didn't have to worry about driving." He rubbed at his temple and winced. "Just what I need, to have Mrs. Taylor next door and Mrs. Danielson across the street peering out their windows at this spectacle." Robert spat out a breath. "Puh, wonderful."

"I think it's brilliant," Tonks squeaked. "I've never been in a llama before. This should be great!"

"A what?" Robert giggled slightly.

"A llama. You know, a llamasine!" Tonks threw up her hands in an impatient gesture and pointed at the vehicle.

"Tonks, honey," Robert said, stroking her cheek, "I think you mean a limousine." He stood from the swing, pulled at the front of his Versace suit, and offered Tonks his hand.

Even in the growing darkness, Robert saw Tonks' cheeks flush pink. "You'd think," she said evenly, "that I'd know that by now, wouldn't you?" She placed her hand in his and got to her feet with surprising grace.

Robert's smile brightened and he chuckled anew. "Sounds like we both have a lot to learn."

The limousine driver, a short, burly man in a black suit, waddled huskily up the front path. He stopped in front of the porch, held up a small note card and read, "Robert Langdon?" With the driver's thick Boston dialect, Robert's name came out sounding something like "Raw-bet."

Robert, placing Tonks' hand in the crook of his elbow, replied, "That's me."

"Gotta make sure, you know, Mr. Langdon, that I, like, got to the right house, you know." The limo driver bobbed his head nervously and gestured wildly.

"No problem." Robert and Tonks started down the porch step, and across the flagstone path, following the limo driver. Tonks' strappy heels, like Tasha's Blahniks before, clicked rhythmically on the hard stone walk. Her pace, however, was relaxed and somewhat uneven, her feet crossing occasionally as she leaned into Robert. As they made their way to the car, Robert smiled as his eyes took in every inch of the vision that was Tonks.

Her hair was pinned at the back with a pair of crossed black lacquer sticks, her blonde highlights accentuating the back and upward motion of her hair. She had small, wispy bangs and a few pieces of hair caressed her cheeks. Her makeup was perfect – natural and beautiful, yet bringing out every feature with high drama.

The dress, Robert thought, was unlike anything he'd seen on a woman before. After obtaining his wand, Robert had bought the dress for Tonks in a small, exclusive, witches' boutique in Tituba's Crossing. It was knee-length and pitch-black seeming to magically absorb all light. While it was in the store and on the hanger, Robert had especially been drawn to the little black beads along the – rather plunging – neckline and shoulder straps. Now, seeing it on Tonks, he could barely wrench his eyes away.

_Not a bad purchase, Langdon, not bad at all. _

It amazed Robert that this beautiful, graceful, and sleek creature on his arm was the same woman who lounged around his living room in sweatpants and a t-shirt that very morning – the same woman who managed to bump her head, smack herself in the cheek, and trip twice within the span of an hour.

_What did I do to deserve her?_

The driver opened the rear door of the expansive vehicle for them, and Robert helped Tonks in first.

"My name is Barney DiMicelli you can call me Barn and I'll be your driver this evening. You're going to Rialto, Mr. Langdon? _Che buona cottura dell'Italiano_!"

"No," Robert replied, stepping halfway into the car, "change of plans. The lady wants South of the Border. We're going to Cinquenta tonight." The driver shuffled nervously. "Um, is that a problem? Don't you know where it is? It's just on the other side of the Charles…"

"No, no sir," the driver hesitated. "It's just that," his eyes shifted nervously, and he swallowed hard, "can I ask you a question sir, a personal question?"

Robert eyed him wearily. "We'd really like to get started on our…"

"No, it won't take a minute Mr. Langdon, really. It's like, just one question." Barney was nearly begging now.

"Okay."

Barney seemed to be steeling his resolve. "I mean, I like, saw your name on my card, here and had to wonder, you know. Are you, like, _the _Robert Langdon? I mean, were you the guy who like, was on TV and saved the Vatican last year, you know, with the Blessed Father Santo Carlo Ventresca?"

Robert blinked. It wasn't so much that this guy was asking him if he was the man who "saved" the Vatican, but rather it was his use of the words, … "_Blessed Father_…_Santo…_Carlo Ventresca?" Hearing the title, 'Santo' in the same breath as the name, Carlo Ventresca, sent a shiver of disgust through Robert's core, and caused his upper lip to involuntarily curl with revulsion. _Santo Carlo Ventresca. God save us all if that's what the world really thinks._

Obviously, since Robert and Vittoria Vetra were the only ones outside the Vatican Conclave who knew about Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca's murderous and destructive vendetta, the rest of the world – especially the devout, old-fashioned Catholic world likely did regard him as 'Santo.' After all, Ventresca was the one who flew the anti-matter bomb away from St. Peter's Basilica, and yes, Ventresca did save the Vatican – but he saved it from his own vicious and hateful doing.

Robert tried hard to compose himself. "Yes, I am Robert Langdon, and I was the one who flew in the helicopter with Carlo Ventresca, but I can hardly say that either of us 'saved' the Vatican, as you say."

"But…did you see…the Cardinals dead…the anti-matter…the Camerlengo… in flame…It was all on TV!"

Robert cut him off. "I'm sorry, Barney. I'm really sorry. I haven't talked about it to anyone, not the press, and not even my mother. I certainly, and I hope you understand, can't talk to you about it."

"That's okay," Barney said, slightly deflated. "My mama – she'll be thrilled when I tell her that I, like, drove you tonight. After what happened last year, you know, she has a framed photograph of the Blessed Santo Carlo on her television stand. And, like, you were one of the last people who… who… you know…touched him, saw him alive. She'll go crazy. She still thinks it was by the holy power of the Camerlengo that you survived."

Robert had enough. He remained purposefully quiet for a moment as a young woman strode by, holding a small dog on a leash. Robert hoped and prayed that the power-walker did not overhear the gush of adoration that Barney had just spewed forth. "Thanks, Barney, can we please go now, we have reservations." Robert plopped into the limousine and pulled the door shut himself. He did not know how long Barney stood outside the window. Eventually, though, he slid behind the wheel, put the car in gear, and started off down Concord Avenue.

Despite the rather upsetting revelation that the Catholic world regarded the criminally insane Carlo Ventresca as some sort of saintly hero who was martyred in service to God, Robert wasn't about to let that ruin his first real "date" with Tonks. It only took a moment, and a few cyclical breaths in the limousine, for Robert to compose himself. Thankfully, Tonks overheard the majority of Robert's conversation with Barney, and didn't press for any details. _He'll tell me about this Vatican thing when he's ready_, she thought. Instead, Tonks merely gathered Robert's hand in her own, squeezed gently, and gave him time to regroup and refocus.

Dinner at Cinquenta was elegant, extravagant, and all Robert could have hoped for. Tonks was impressed by Robert's grasp of the Spanish language, and was even more impressed that he knew the restaurant's owner, Juan Pedro Navarre. As soon as Robert and Tonks lit from the limo, Señor Navarre was out the door, a pretty, dark-haired young hostess at his heels. He greeted them heartily in rapid-fire Spanish, and barked terse orders to the timid, rather frightened girl. The hostess, her eyes glued to the floor, showed them to a quiet, private, table in the back of the restaurant. After they were seated, she smiled timorously, whispered, "_Ustedes gozan de sus cenas,"_ and briskly walked away. During the evening, Navarre personally saw to Robert and Tonks' every whim.

"Why is Mr. Navarre being so nice to us?" Tonks asked over their appetizer of sea scallops.

"I helped get his daughter, Juanita, into Harvard five years ago – gave her a glowing recommendation on her knowledge of ancient Mayan architecture. Now Juanita's back in Mexico heading up some major archaeology work. Very happy man, Juan Pedro." Robert smiled, taking a hearty sip of his margarita.

Robert enjoyed watching Tonks relish her meal of _enchiladas de pollo y frijoles blancos con salsa molè,_ more so than he enjoyed his own _salmones en pipiàn verde_. Robert smiled as Tonks thanked him profusely after practically every bite. "This food, this is the dog's bollocks!" Tonks blushed, and hiccupped. "I mean, it's fabulous. Brilliant. I never knew chocolate and chicken could be this delicious together!"

By the end of the meal, Robert was enraptured by simply studying Tonks' ecstatic reactions to each bite of her vanilla and brandy flàn. She drew her fork slowly through her mouth with each bite, her eyes closed and her chin jutted forward in pure culinary bliss. Robert, his own mouth watering slightly at the sight, wondered if some of this reaction didn't stem from the two and one half strawberry margaritas she had consumed during dinner. Feeling slightly tipsy himself, and growing more amorous with each bite Tonks took of her dessert, Robert flagged down their waiter and summarily asked for the check.

Barney DiMicelli drove the couple back to Robert Landgon's home on Concord Avenue in pure silence. Being a professional limo driver, Barney knew when to keep his mouth shut, and especially, when to close the center partition. On top of that, Barney had worried all night that he had somehow insulted Mr. Langdon, although he had no idea why, when he asked questions about the Sainted Camerlengo Carlo.

_This is definitely one of those times to shut the hell up. _

The couple he drove was obviously in love, obviously slightly smashed, and obviously ready for some 'time alone.' Barney couldn't see what was happening in the expansive back of his car, but the sounds of laughter, muffled as they were, were those of two people thoroughly appreciating each other.

_Yup, he's like, gonna get a little somethin' tonight._

Barney pulled up in front of the house, and put his rig in park. He lit from the vehicle, and walked to the back. Barney hesitated for a moment, and then thought it best to knock on the window before opening the door. He did so, and the door pushed open. Robert Langdon stepped from the vehicle, surprisingly solid for just having a long night out, and helped his girlfriend up and out. _Wait until I tell mama_, Barney thought. _Robert Langdon Santo Roberto in my rig. She'll flip, and then maybe she'll lay off me about this job…_ Obviously, Barney would keep the part about the hot girlfriend, the booze, and the noises to himself. Mama didn't need to know that.

Langdon handed Barney a bill, wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder, and gave Barney a smile. "Thanks, Barney. Great ride. I paid by credit card over the phone. This is for you." Santo Roberto walked his girlfriend back up the path toward his house. Barney looked down at the bill.

"Holy shit," he muttered under his breath. It was a Benjamin – a 100 bill. _Good tipper. Very good tipper._ He lifted his head and looked at the back of Robert Langdon's slightly staggering form. "Thank you, Mr. Langdon, sir! Thank you, Santo Roberto!" Langdon lifted his hand off his girl's back and waved, not looking back.

"Anytime, Barn. Good night." Barney nearly sprinted back to the front of the limo, hopped in, and sped away.

As Robert fumbled in his pocket for the door keys, Tonks stood up on her toes and began kissing his neck just above the now-loosened collar. Robert closed his eyes to the sensation, nearly forgetting that they were outside, nearly forgetting that he was just getting ready to open the front door. She serpentined her hands up Robert's chest, underneath the undone tie, and wrapped her arms around his middle, under his jacket. Robert's breath caught in his lungs, and he felt slightly dizzy. Now, more than ever, he wanted desperately to get inside – to get upstairs – to…

"Damn, I can't find the keys," Robert growled, "I know I put them in my jacket pocket."

Tonks didn't even stop her kisses when she said, "You gave them to me. They're in my handbag."

Robert looked at the door, looked down at Tonks clinging to his own body, and looked at the door again. There was no way he was going to make her break her embrace just to dig out a God damn key. He opened his jacket, pulled out his new wand, and covertly aimed it at the doorknob. "_Alohomora_, right?"

Tonks, now having undone more buttons on Robert's shirt, started kissing there. She gave a muffled "uh-huh."

"Screw it then," Robert said. He gave the incantation, and the door clicked open. "Thank you, Merlin." He bundled Tonks inside, and pushed the door shut behind him with his back. She ran in front of him, giggling like a schoolgirl. He stayed pressed against the door, kicking off his shoes haphazardly into the foyer. She giggled again, and Robert ran after her, shedding his Versace jacket onto one of the living room armchairs in the process. The path between the door, up the stairs, and to the bedroom became littered with shoes, coat, pashmina, purse, and pantyhose – setting a scene that would become a glaring reminder for Robert come morning.

Tonks entered the bedroom and shut the door, locking Robert out. He pounded playfully on the door, the noise reverberating in his margarita-soaked brain. "Oh, come on, Tonks. Let me in!" He pounded on the door some more.

"Say please."

Robert growled and backed up from the door. He set his shoulder sideways and pushed forward. As he was about to make contact with the door, Tonks opened it, sending Robert flying into the room and landing pell-mell onto the bed in a tangle of sheets, tie, and pillows. Robert's chest flared in slight pain, but he didn't even notice. He was laughing too hard – laughing like he hadn't laughed in a long time. It was an uncontrollable, unrelenting, silly laugh that he just couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried, and no matter how much it hurt. It did hurt, but he loved every minute of it.

For once in who knows how many years, Robert felt his youthful soul spring forth from his aging body. He never wanted to let go, never wanted to go back. He had Tonks to thank for that.

_Ten days – ten glorious days_.

Robert took gasping breaths between peals of laughter and clutched his hand to his chest. The fit of giggles was finally passing, and when it did, it stopped abruptly, soberingly. The giddiness was replaced by an instantaneous feeling throughout his entire body that his dreams were about to come true.

Tonks was standing in front of him, near the foot of the bed, a boiling and sultry, yet mischievous look in her eyes. She reached behind her, and tried, with some increasing level of annoyance, to undo the zipper in the back of her dress. Seeing her predicament, and feeling his own desire mounting, Robert scooted forward, yanked off his tie, and sat up, facing Tonks.

"Let me."

Robert placed his hands on her hipbones, and moved them slowly up around the small of her back, to the top of the dress. The fabric was soft, slinky, and absolutely black. His hands glided effortlessly over it. Robert found the zipper pull at the top, and with both hands, drew it down gradually until it stopped at the place near her tailbone. Robert, his eyes contacting and grasping onto Tonks', traced his hands up her now bared back, and wound his fingers around the top of the dress straps. Smiling roguishly, he pulled forward, drawing the dress down around Tonks' arms, allowing it to drop in a pool of liquid black fabric to the floor.

Robert's world stopped and stood perfectly still – so very still. He gasped slightly at the image before him. Just like that very morning, Tonks' body was bared to him – utterly exposed. _My God, but she's beautiful._ She trusted him, loved him enough to allow him to see her that way. Even in the dim light from the streetlamp outside, she was the very picture of symmetrical perfection.

_The Divine Feminine._

Before Robert could think or act, she began unbuttoning the remainder of his shirt, kneeling before him to work on the lower buttons. She stood back up, spread his shirt apart and pushed it down off his shoulders, allowing it, too, to fall off the bed and onto the carpet below. Robert licked his lips and stood, gathering Tonks up in his arms and holding her, allowing their collective body warmth to transfer one to another. She wriggled slightly and lifted her face to his.

Their kiss was, at first, chaste and subtle, but it quickly escalated into a passion to rival those of that morning. Robert's mind swam with feelings of desire, want, need, love – all centered around this woman now locked against his own body. It was more than obvious that the emotions were mutual. Tonks pushed him gently back onto the bed and resumed her work from that morning, showering Robert's chest, neck, and arms with heated kisses. Robert wrapped her up in his arms. Her moans deepened his desire, causing his body to strain harder against the remainder of his clothes. Almost as if reading his mind, Tonks moved her hands downward, and deftly picked at Robert's belt and pants button until they came apart, allowing Robert to kick off the offending garment and throw it across the room.

Robert looked up at Tonks again. Her hair was no longer the mid-length, highlighted, razor-cut mass that it was moments ago. Even in the dim light, Robert could also see that Tonks' eyes were no longer a brilliant green, but had returned to brown. "Tonks? What happened?"

Tonks felt her hair. "Oh, yeah," she sighed, "sorry, that happens all the time."

"No need to be sorry, but – what happens all the time?" Robert reached up and stroked her now long, chestnut tresses, twirling the ends around his fingers.

"When I get, er, excited, you know. I can't concentrate on it…"

"You can't hold on to the illusion, right? The change?"

"That's right. I kind of revert back when I get all, hot and… well, you know…" She rolled her eyes playfully.

"Aroused?" Robert's roguish smile resurfaced.

"Oh, definitely. Definitely aroused, Langdon."

Robert and Tonks made love wordlessly. Of great surprise to Robert, they did so rather effortlessly as well. There were no awkward moments, no times of trial and error. Simply, they fit together, and they seemed to know each other's wants and likings without having to be told. Robert was honored to be able to minister to Tonks' bodily needs, and did so with a level of relish and delight that his sexually selfish persona would not, until now, permit.

Robert couldn't believe how easy it was to love Tonks, how miraculous their ultimate union really was. Vittora Vetra had once likened her own lovemaking to a "religious experience." Robert now chuckled at the comparison. Tonks' rapt attentions to his own body, and ultimately, Tonks' lovemaking were, in fact, "perfect moments of glorious rapture," as Vittora had put it – and they were experiences that the not-so-holy Santo Roberto would never forget.

Robert Langdon half-slept, half-smiled as he lay on his side, tangled in the bedcovers. Tonks had just been beside him, spooned up against his back, her hand habitually tracing gentle circles along his arm. "I'll be right back," she had whispered, before rising from the bed and padding across the carpeted floor to the master bathroom.

Robert closed his eyes and tried to imagine the vision of Tonks standing bared before him. He pushed deep in his brain to preserve that image forever. The evening had been flawless every moment of it, and he had made Tonks as happy as she made him. As he drifted off to sleep again, he heard a loud banging noise. To Robert's half-asleep mind, the noise came from that Tomlinson boy's new-slash-used car. The ugly beater was always backfiring, and the kid was always coming home at odd hours at night. Blinking slightly, Robert closed his eyes, willing his body to submit to slumber again.

As he did so, he felt the bed bounce under him, and felt Tonks' body press against his. She was no longer nude. Rather, Robert could feel a slick, silky sheath against the skin of his back. Robert relished the sensation, and pressed his body further against it. "What are you wearing?"

Tonks did not respond. "Whatever it is, I think I like it." Still no response. Rather, she turned slightly toward him, and reached under the covers. Robert felt her hand caress the flesh of his upper leg, moving in a deliberate, rhythmic pattern down into the space between his inner thighs. His body responded immediately, and he instinctively reached behind to touch her legs. "Tonks, what _are_ you doing? Again? You're insatiable."

Yet again, no response. She simply continued her stroking, her hand reaching a higher plane with each broad brush on Robert's thigh. Robert turned over, sleepily, to face her in the semi-darkness. She was still beautiful, and still maintained her natural appearance. Despite Tonks' earlier protestations about looking like her aunt Bellatrix, Robert felt a deep attraction to her in this state. He reached for her, and grasped the back of her head, pulling her toward him. "Nymphadora Tonks, I do love you," he whispered, and kissed her gently.

The kiss that was returned was anything but gentle. Tonks, her lips still locked to Robert's, literally jumped on top of him, sending a jolting shockwave of pain through Robert's still injured chest. Robert tried to speak, to protest, but her mouth clamped on his prevented it. She gathered up Robert's hands in her own and pressed his arms into the bed, high over his head. Her kisses became even more violent. Robert finally spat her off after she bit hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing, Tonks?" Robert found himself becoming angry, and he did not want to feel anger at this moment – and especially not at Tonks. "You bit me, what the hell was that for?" Robert tried to pull down one of his hands to touch the offended lip, but Tonks would not relinquish her grasp. "Let me go," Robert growled.

Tonks gave a bone-chilling laugh.

"This isn't funny, Tonks." Robert struggled hard against her. _Shit, she's strong. I can't get my hands free_. Robert took a breath and fixed Tonks with a didactic stare. "Come on now, Tonks, I'm in no mood for the succubus game. I honestly don't like it. Stop now. Don't ruin this. Let's go back to sleep."

Tonks returned a mirthless, almost, Robert thought_, hateful_ glare. _Where is this coming from? _She said only one word, in a hoarse whisper. "No."

Robert's mind snapped to attention, his adrenaline fueled by his growing anger, confusion, and – strangely enough, fear. He fought her again, but she still proved incredibly strong. "Let…me…go…now!" At the end of the sentence, Robert heard his voice shouting, echoing around the bedroom.

Again, Tonks said simply, "No."

Robert looked around wild-eyed. And then he saw it. Her left arm on the underside of her left arm. There was a mark there – faint and faded – but a mark nonetheless. A grotesque tattoo consisting of a skull with a snake slithering through the open mouth. He recognized it immediately. Robert's eyes widened, his mouth trembled, and his nose curled slightly in abject disgust. "The Dark Mark," he mumbled.

_Wake me, now. Pinch me. This isn't real._

Tonks' eyes flashed, and she gave a wicked smile. "Yes."

_My God! No! _Robert thrashed for a moment to no avail. He stopped, and looked Tonks in the eyes again. The eyes were brown and large, like Tonks', but there was something different, something missing. There was definitely something missing – life, love. The eyes were deadened and full of obvious hatred. There was only one explanation, and that explanation horrified Robert.

He heard Tonks' voice from earlier that day reverberate within his head. "I am the mirror image of my aunt, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. In fact, if we were the same age, you probably wouldn't be able to tell us apart." _So, if Bellatrix took an age reversal potion…_ Robert realized with growing dread that the one, the very explanation swimming in his mind was, in fact, true. The woman now straddling Robert's naked torso, the woman who he had just kissed, who had touched him in a very intimate place, was not Tonks at all, it was…

"Bella…Bella…trix…?" Robert stammered, feeling more and more violated, victimized. It was a feeling he despised, and one that normally caused him to rebel at all costs. Except now, he was too locked in his own shock to rebel, too numbed over – it would have to wait. _Bellatrix Lestrange…_ Bellatrix, still holding firm to Robert's wrists, let out a vicious, high-pitched cackle of laughter. Robert knew now that he was right. He swallowed hard, his brain trying desperately to make sense of it all, trying to figure an escape.

_Come on, Langdon, think. Think! I have to get to Tonks. Have to find her…_

She spoke, finally, but Robert wished she hadn't. Her voice was gravelly, guttural, and lifeless. "About time the brilliant mind of Robert Langdon understands. Called me succubus, he did. Brilliant mind, Langdon has, she tells me. Gets it now, brainy thing, he does. He gets it. He knows. Knows, he does." She forced Robert's hands together, and held them fast with one of her own. "Knows he can't… get… away…"

The challenge newly emboldened Robert. He tried kicking out, but she was sitting right on the place where his legs met his hips. She had him immobilized, like a Lamia would have her victim. He couldn't believe how heavy she was. _Some sort of density spell? Strength enhancer? _Robert gave a growl of frustration, bent his knees, and bounced his feet on the bed, trying desperately to get some leverage. Nothing worked. _Why can't I shake her?_

Bellatrix pulled a wand out from between her breasts and aimed at a spot above Robert's head. With another loud "bang," thin, snakelike cords erupted from the end of Bellatrix's wand and twisted around Robert's hands, arms and wrists, binding him in place to the headboard. Robert strained and thrashed, pulling hard against the cords, but they only tightened, dug deeper into his wrists, and cut at his flesh.

_Oh my God not this not now. Please, let this be a nightmare_….

"Oh, but it's not a nightmare, brilliant Robert Langdon," she said, childishly, "brainy anorak. Stupid brain. It's not. No, it's not. Not a nightmare, but it will be." She re-aimed her wand at Robert's legs and gave an incantation Robert barely heard above his own swearing, screaming and angry protestations. To Robert's horror and shock, his legs clamped together, locked at the knees, and became absolutely immobile.

_I can't move my legs. Sweet Jesus, I can't move. What the hell do I do? Tonks!_ Robert tried reason again, tried to appear defiant. "What do you want, Bellatrix? Where is Tonks?"

"Tonks is with me, brilliant, brainy, Langdon. I want nothing more than what I already have. I already have it. What I want. First step. Three steps. I have it. First step. Nymphadora, first step." Her face hovered only inches from Robert's, her breath falling onto Robert's face. "Nymphadora I have. First step. Second step coming soon." She bent down swiftly and locked her lips on Robert's again. Robert tried clamping shut, but couldn't maintain it. Bellatrix yet again found Robert's bottom lip with her teeth, again pierced the tender flesh, and caused yet another shock of pain to course through Robert's body.

She pulled back, wiping the blood – Robert's blood – from her mouth as if she had just finished her favorite dessert. A word Robert despised, one he had never used to describe a woman, crept into his consciousness and clawed at him like a feral cat. It was, however, the only word Robert could think of to describe this thing.

_Bitch. You insane, psychotic bitch. _

"Second step, coming soon," she repeated. Before Robert could speak, she re-aimed her wand directly at Robert's chest.

"No, don't," Robert yelled, "not again, don't!" He let out a groaning, primal scream of desperation. "Tonks!"

But the pleas and the outrage went unheard. "Goodbye, Robert Langdon, brainy swot. Brainy Langdon. Goodbye. _Stu-pe-fy!"_

In the moment before the spell hit, Robert felt a flash of thankfulness that she did not kill him, that she did not invoke the Killing Curse, the _Avada Kedavra_.

_When I wake – and I will wake, Bellatrix I will find Tonks. And I will find you…and when I do… _

_  
_


	6. Chapter Six Losses and Gains

**CHAPTER SIX**

**LOSSES AND GAINS**

Bellatrix Lestrange was a happy, happy woman.

For the first time in years, she actually _felt_ happiness – a pride in her accomplishments. The first of her three goals was completed. The spoils of that task lay before her, unconscious, in a crumpled heap. _Two to go. Two more. First step done. Done. Second step started. Started. Dutifully avenge. Third step…must wait. Must be patient. Dutifully perform. _

The icing on the cake was Robert Langdon. It had been a decade since Bellatrix had last been kissed, since she had last been loved, since she had last been touched by a man feeling anything other than contempt or cruelty. Robert Langdon's touch, and Robert Langdon's kiss, were pure bliss – even if they were meant for another. The feel of his body under hers had sent through her an unfamiliar tremor of desire. She had felt beautiful.

It was unfortunate that she couldn't carry the charade on longer. Age reversal potions, even the most potent ones, only last so long. It was regrettable that she had to _physically_ hurt Robert Langdon, that she had to make his _body_ bleed, that she had to violate those soft lips. After all, he had fought against her, his otherwise kind eyes had burned with hatred for her.

_Can't have that. That bad, bad, behavior. Bad, brilliant Langdon. Can't have it_. There would be time for her own peculiar forms of enjoyment later – after her work was done – and there was much work to be done. Langdon had been in the way for the moment. He would get his, but killing him – that was never an option.

Killing others, that was no problem.

_Second step started. Wait until Langdon wakes. He'll see. He'll see the second step. He'll hear. He'll know. Second step. He'll see. Langdon will know. Langdon will understand. He will understand soon. Brainy Langdon – lover Langdon handsome Langdon._

Robert Langdon's body was on fire.

Every muscle, every bone, every sinew ached with the intensity of thousands of licking, consuming flames.

_There must be a hell, because I'm in it_.

He lay on his back, half-conscious, emerging slowly from the utter darkness. He opened his mouth with difficulty, swallowed, and exhaled a caught breath. As the air passed his lips, he felt a new pain. His bottom lip was swollen and battered. His tongue instinctively sought out the damage. Robert winced as he tasted the remnants of dried blood around his mouth.

After the tongue, his next level of instinct called for him to run his fingers over his offended face. As he tried to move his right hand, he realized it was tied to his left above his head.

_What the…_?

As his hands were no longer bound to the headboard, he was able to bring them down over his head and lay them across his chest. He opened his eyes, adjusted to the screaming daylight, and studied the bonds. They were like no ropes he had ever seen. Every time he moved his wrists to try and wriggle out, the bonds dug into his skin, cutting and rubbing in more vicious burns.

_Yes, I am in hell – I am in hell and I'm being punished for my sins. _

He tried sitting up, using his joined arms as a cantilever. As soon as Robert lifted his head, a searing pain shot through his chest. Writhing in agony, he flopped his head back down on the pillow, and panted waiting, praying for the torture to pass. Mercifully, it did. Trying another tack, Robert turned on his side, and, with some difficulty, kicked his sore legs over the edge of the bed. In this position, he was able to push up on his arm with little offense to his chest. Sitting now, he looked down at his body.

He was naked, and he had the yellowish blossoms of two large bruises in the middle of his upper legs. His wrists were severely lacerated. The blood had pooled up and dried like stigmata in his palms, and had dripped in long ribbons down the length of his arms.

_How did this happen? How did I get like this? Who did this to me? _

His chest bore a large, linear tell-tale burn mark. It was just like one that he had seen in that very same place only days ago when Tonks was at his side, comforting him in the hospital.

_Ten damn days. Eleven now… _

_Tonks…_ He looked around the room_. But where is Tonks?_ A voice reverberated through his skull. _She's gone. She won't, probably can't, come back. You only had her for ten damn days, and now she's gone!_ Robert couldn't understand why his thoughts became so fatalistic – why there was so much despair swimming around in his head. Then, like the blast from the curse itself, the revelation – the reason hit him.

_Bellatrix. Tonks. Taken. And I could do nothing about it. I should have known it was coming, but I didn't. It's my fault. All my fault. She's gone._

Robert wanted to scream. He tried to cry out, but the noise stuck in his throat. In panicky desperation, he grunted loudly, pulling and tugging frantically at the bindings around his hands. The more he struggled, the more damage he did – to himself. The more damage he did, the more angry and frustrated he became. He tried biting at the cords, but they only tore into his already bloody lips and gums.

_Settle down, Robert_, he thought, his breaths coming in jagged gasps_, take this logically. These are magical ropes. How do I get rid of them? Be rational. Use your brain. Think. One step at a time…one step…_

_…First step. First step done. Second step coming. Second step coming soon…_

"No!" Robert pulled his hands over his head, trying to use his biceps to cover his ears – to block out the horrible echo in his head. _Second step coming soon…brainy Langdon, brainy swot…_ Bellatrix's voice was relentless, poking, prodding, taunting.

"Stop, please stop!"

Robert sat quiet for a moment, trying desperately to gather his thoughts, to make his frontal lobe kick in and take over where his emotional centers were usurping control. _Breathe,_ he thought, relaxing his arms again, _breathe like __Vittoria__ taught you. Breathe circular, breathe with your eyes. There is a solution, Robert, you just have to remember what it is. Not learn, not create, not think up, not problem solve – remember the solution. It's there. You just have to remember it._

_Magical ropes. A spell._ _Finite_. He heard Tonks' voice echo in his mind – a flashback from a brief lesson in magic days ago.

"To end a spell, the words are, _Finite Incantatem_, or simply, _Finite_."

_Finite. But I have no wand. It's downstairs, in my jacket. Stupid of me to leave it there. Mr. Ollivander warned me. _He heard Tonks again.

"… the topper is that it seems you can do it without a wand, which is very rare."

_Without a wand…._ Robert closed his eyes and began to concentrate. _I can do this without a wand._ He focused hard on the word, _Finite_, allowing it to fill his mind, ring in his ears, and flash behind his eyes. He could see in his mind's eye the bonds loosening, disappearing. His breaths came faster and faster, culminating in a large gulp of air. As he exhaled, Robert let the word, _Finite_, push up from his diaphragm, through his lungs, past his throat, and over his lips. It came out in an intense, primal, drawn-out yell, the sound filling the room, filling Robert's ears, and echoing throughout the house.

At the end of it, Robert felt the bonds dissolve, and felt the cords dangle loosely across his bare legs. His hands now free, Robert cradled his head in his right hand, still breathing heavily. He was utterly drained, but he was free.

_I did it. Now, I have to find Tonks._

His wrists were bloodied and painful. Robert flexed and relaxed his fingers, trying to restore circulation and ease the ache. He rose from the bed, and stumbled into the bathroom. After turning on the shower, he leaned heavily on the vanity, and washed his wounded arms in the sink.

_I have to find Tonks_.

Robert peered in the bathroom mirror. His eyes, sparkling blue only yesterday, had reverted to a dull, lifeless, exhausted gray. The bags around his eyes had become trunks, quadrupling in size. His bottom lip was severely bruised, swollen, and bespattered with blood.

_I have to find Tonks._

He took a handful of water, and splashed it on his face. He rinsed out his mouth, and gingerly chipped away the dried gore from his lips.

_I have to find Tonks. I have to get her back. I have to find Bellatrix. I have to get back at her. I will find Tonks. I will find Bellatrix – and when I do…_

Robert sat on the top stair, surveying the living room below through the gaps in the banister. The day before, Tonks and Robert had made an ersatz practice game of levitating their suitcases and bags up the stairs. The game continued in the bedroom, as they magically threw their clothes and shoes at each other in a playful fight. After creating a disaster in Robert's room, they each put away their things, still giggling like children. Robert had even made room in his closet and drawers for Tonks' clothes – something he never thought he would do – for anyone. It amazed him how natural his and her things looked together. 

Now, the living room was devoid of luggage, but was instead littered with the wreckage of the happy night, one that now seemed so long before. Robert's suit jacket lay haphazardly on the back of his leather armchair. Tonks' shoes, pashmina shawl, and hair sticks were thrown in a pile at the bottom of the stairs. Her pantyhose hung, limp and lifeless, on the finial of the railing. Robert stood and trudged slowly down the stairs, his wet hair dripping down his neck, and his long bathrobe trailing on the step behind him. He picked up each of the strewn items and gathered them in a pile on the couch.

Plopping down dejectedly next to the pile, Robert lifted Tonks' pashmina. He stared at it for a long while, and then held the luxurious fabric to his face and inhaled. It smelled of clean linen and apples, just as Tonks did last night. Robert closed his eyes

_Ten damn days._

"What the hell do I do now?" Robert shook his head. "No clues, no notes, no physical evidence, nothing. Not a trace. Nothing in the bathroom. Just gone. How in the hell am I supposed to find her?" He clutched the pashmina in his hand, squishing the delicate fibers. "There has to be something. Wallowing here in self-pity is useless, and it's making me sick to my stomach. I'm just missing it. I must be." Robert closed his eyes again, willing his brain to work, pushing his dulled synapses to fire and find the solution.

For once in Robert's life, the solution found him.

The doorbell rang. "Oh, not now," Robert pleaded to no one, "just go away."

The doorbell rang again. Robert ignored it again.

Now the person was pounding on the door. A muffled, male voice came wafting through. "Mr. Langdon, open up, please. Mr. Langdon?" More knocking. "Mr. Langdon, it's Eli Dresner. Please. I really need to talk to you. It's important life and death." More knocking. "Mr. Langdon, it's about my mother."

That got Robert's attention. He stood and padded to the front door. Opening it a crack, he realized. _Eli Dresner – Captain with the USWPC. He could help! He could help find Tonks! There was the solution!_

The Eli that Robert saw was a shell of the man he had met only yesterday. He was dressed in Muggle street clothes instead of his sharp, pressed, blue USWPC uniform. Robert immediately noticed a large, deliberate, tear in the left side of Eli's polo shirt. It didn't take a professor of religious symbology to know what that meant.

_It's about my mother, he said…torn clothes… over his heart… oh, God, no._

"Captain," Robert said, "what's wrong?" Robert wasn't exactly sure he wanted to hear.

Eli's otherwise round face was sunken and drawn, and his eyes were bloodshot. "Can I please just come in?"

"Yes, yes, please. Come in. Have a seat." Robert closed the door behind the Captain, and ushered him to the couch. "Are you okay?"

"Mr. Langdon…"

"Robert."

"Yes, okay, then, call me Eli, Robert." Eli seemed to be fighting back tears – and he was doing a poor job of it. His eyes were glazed over with liquid grief. "Did you… read the paper this morning?" He held up a copy of the _Boston__ Globe._

"No, I didn't get it yet, I…" Robert saw the small tagline on the front page, and the stark reality hit him smack in the face. _Torn clothes…_

**CAMBRIDGE**** STORE OWNER MURDERED…**

He grabbed the paper from Eli's hands and scanned the article

**CAMBRIDGE**** STORE OWNER MURDERED. TERRORISTS SUSPECTED**.

By David Paulson, Cambridge Desk. Helena Dresner, 76, of Cambridge, was found dead in her store, Granny D's Grocery, at 7618 Concord Avenue in Cambridge late Friday night. The police, called to the scene at 11:10 pm, found Mrs. Dresner dead. The front door of the family-owned store was unlocked, and police found no sign of forced entry. The exact cause of death has not been released. Because of Mrs. Dresner's connections to charitable Jewish organizations and State of Israel support lobbies, possible terrorist activity cannot be ruled out. The Federal Bureau of Investigations has been called in to assist with the investigation. If you have any information, please contact the Bureau's Boston office at…

_Mrs. Dresner…_ Robert couldn't bring himself to read further. "My God, who did this?" Robert let the paper fall from his fingers onto the floor below. He sank into the armchair, shaking, his own eyes glazing over with anguish.

Eli shook his head. "I wish I knew, but I thought maybe you could help in that regard."

"Me? How could I possibly…? I was out with Tonks last night, I didn't see anything."

Eli handed Robert the small, folded sheaf of paper. "Because of this."

Robert unfolded it and pulled in a sharp breath. "Sweet Lord. How did you get this? What is this writing on it? That's not my handwriting."

"I know. I found it this morning in my mother's pocketbook as I was going through her things. Once the FBI got the case, it was turned over to the USWPC, seeing that Mom is what she is – or was." Eli scrubbed at his eyes, a new sadness overtaking him. "They called me out before they knew it was my mother. So, I was at the investigation, and I found this."

"But, why did you take it? Why didn't you turn it in?"

"Do you really think I want to implicate you? You know that's what would happen if they got hold of that paper. It would be their first lead and they'd jump all over you – but I know better. Frankly, Robert, I don't care a damn about the USWPC investigation. They won't do anything, they're so understaffed they'll just sit on it and never find out who killed her. Given what's on that paper, I thought we could … well, just read it."

Robert examined the paper again. At the top were the words, "From the Desk of Robert Langdon." Below that, was the shopping list Robert had made the morning before, each of the items crossed out neatly. But that was not all that was written there. Scribbled on the side, in a completely unfamiliar, and rather child-like hand, were the words:

"Langdon, Bubulah, if you ever do want to marry your shaineh maidel, you'll have to find her first. To find her you have to find me, Bubulah. Just follow me…you'll know by the smell of death."

"Oh my God." Robert's eyes opened wide. "Those words – the Yiddish, the question about marriage – that's what your mother said to me yesterday when I was at her store…." He read the message again. "I told her all about Tonks and she used those words, she called me _Bubulah_, and wanted to know if I was going to… marry her…_Bubulah_ and _shaineh maidel_. I have no idea how anyone else could have known this, Eli. No one else was there."

Robert and Eli stared at the paper for a long moment. "Well, whoever it is, killed my mother – they broke her neck, Robert obviously to get to you." Eli looked up, a questioning glint in his eyes. "What does that mean, 'you have to find her first?'"

Robert sighed and blinked hard. "Tonks was…we were… I was attacked…last night. Upstairs, in my bed. The attacker disabled me and took Tonks."

Eli's head snapped up. "_Took_ Tonks, as in kidnapped?"

Robert nodded.

"Who was it? How did they get in?"

"Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure she Apparated in. I heard a loud noise before it happened and chalked it up to the neighbor kid's car backfiring. Now I wonder…."

"She? A woman did this? Apparated? A witch? Who was it?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

Eli stood from the couch and glared down at Robert. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"So then, what you're saying is that Bellatrix Lestrange also killed my mother? Jeez, Robert, you know we've been after her for days? Why didn't you catch her?"

"Catch her?" Robert was incredulous. "Tonks looks just like her. Lestrange took an anti-aging potion to disguise herself, and made me believe she was Tonks. She distracted me, immobilized me, and finally stunned me." Robert pushed up the sleeves of his robe, revealing his mangled wrists.

"_Ben zonah,_" Eli swore, and let out a low whistle. "That _shikseh_ – that whore! No wonder you couldn't get free. I can't believe she used Biting Binds on you. That's some serious stuff. We don't even use those anymore on our worst offenders – they're considered cruel and unusual punishment!"

"Cruel and unusual? You wouldn't kid me now, would you?"

"Listen, Robert, my wife, Janie, has some essence of murtlap – come back home with me – she'll make you a nice, big breakfast you can soak those wrists, and your lip there the murtlap'll fix them right up."

Robert smiled. "Thanks, I think I'd like that. Can you help me find Tonks, too?"

"Damn straight I will. I still need her, she's a crack Auror and we need all the help we can get! Plus, if Bellatrix murdered my mother," his voice caught in his throat, "screw the USWPC, I get first dibs on the bi… I mean, at her." Eli's eyes filled again with tears.

"Eli, I'm so sorry about Helena. I loved her too, you know. She's been like a mother to me since I was a college kid. I'm sorry she got mixed up in all this, that she got mixed up with me. I honestly never suspected that Lestrange would come after Tonks, that she would come after anyone…anyone I…" Robert's feelings of guilt washed over him like a tidal wave.

He did the only thing he felt he could do that would adequately express his abject sorrow. Even though he was not a believer, Robert knew the rites the importance of symbols and symbolic gestures to the Children of Israel. He knew from his studies how one of Eli's descent – apparently, whether wizard or not expressed sympathy and grief at the loss of a loved one. Eli, and especially Helena Dresner, more than deserved that sign of pure love and respect.

Robert stood, and clutched his robe with both hands at the right-hand collar. He clenched his teeth, and, in one swift motion, wrenched the fabric apart.

"May the Lord comfort you with all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem, Eli."

Eli stood blinking for a moment, shocked at Robert's heartfelt gesture. With a sudden lurch of his shoulders, Eli let go and collapsed, helpless, to his knees.

Seeing Eli's renewed tears, and hearing his anguished sobs, Robert's demeanor changed. He knelt down, grabbed Eli by the shoulders, and glared steely-eyed. "We _will_ find her, Eli, we will find" _…that bitch… _"Lestrange. You'll get your shot at her, we both will, I promise. We'll need help, though – backup and I know just where to get it."

"There." Janie Dresner lifted an angular, snub-nose pair of scissors and cut off the end of a long strip of white gauze dangling between Robert's thumb and forefinger. "Keep these bandages on your wrists and hands for an hour, Robert. Once the bandages are removed, the skin there will be good as new." 

Robert looked down at his hands. After Janie forced Robert to soak up to his elbows in a bucket full of a smelly, slimy concoction she called "a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles" _whatever that is _– Janie smothered his wounds generously with an even slimier and even more foul-smelling ointment. She then bound the skin from the middle of Robert's lower arm to his second knuckles thickly and tightly with layers of cotton batting, gauze, and muslin.

Robert laughed inwardly, thinking that his hands looked like they belonged on a cartoon character – like the Mickey Mouse ticking away on his watch, now stashed in his shirt pocket. He turned his hands over and over, inspecting Janie's handiwork. "This…," Robert crinkled his nose, "this stuff – this will really heal me up and grow the skin back?"

"Yes, but you have to keep the bandages on for an hour exactly. Otherwise, if you take them off too early, you'll end up with some really nasty scarring. It'll look like a botched Muggle skin graft after a burn. Transplanting skin – yuck that's barbaric, if you ask me. And it may itch, but no scratching, got it?" She wagged a finger in Robert's nose, "N-O-no scratching, mister. I'll make sure Eli watches you closely for that." Janie smiled warmly. "You're just lucky I was off call today, Robert, otherwise Eli would have had to bring you in for this treatment – and I would have had to charge you," she winked.

"Off call? Where do you work?"

"I'm the Senior Apprentice Healer in the Immediate Treatment of Spell and Curse Damage department at Diane Cecht Memorial Wizarding Hospital."

_That was a mouthful._ "Healer?"

"Yeah," Janie thought for a moment, "I guess you could say that I'm the equivalent of the Chief Resident in the ER at a Muggle teaching hospital, like St. Eligius here in Boston."

_Not a good comparison_, Robert thought. _If Diane Cecht Memorial is anything like St. Eligius, I wouldn't set foot in the place even if I was bleeding out of my eyes…_

"So, don't worry, Robert. My wife really knows her stuff." Eli entered the kitchen, pulled out a chair next to Robert and sat down. Despite Eli's somewhat cheery demeanor, his reddened nose and swollen eyes gave away that he had just been crying. From the sympathetic, and somewhat pained look on Janie's face, she had noticed as well.

_Some people simply hide their emotions around loved ones …let him cope the best he can._

"Nice work, Janie, the horrible sting from that Skin Restorer is bound to drive Robert nuts for the next hour, isn't it?" Eli said.

Robert shot Eli a wary glance.

Janie pursed her lips and scowled. "He's only joking, Robert."

Eli winked. "No, I'm not." After a pause, Eli stood and clapped Robert, rather too heartily, on the shoulder. "Come with me for a minute. There's something my mother asked me to show you." Eli gave Janie a kiss on the cheek. "Is he finished, dear?"

"For now. Where will you two be?"

Eli's voice hitched slightly. "In Mother's apartment downstairs. We won't be long."

"Okay, but don't let him scratch those hands." Janie gave Robert a sympathetic pat on the back, gathered up her medical supplies, and trotted into the bathroom.

Robert called after her. "Thanks, Janie, and thanks for breakfast. It was fantastic."

"Any time, Robert, any time." She stopped and turned, "Oh, and Elisha?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Mom's cousin Daniela from Chicago sent an owl. She wanted to know when we were sitting shiva."

Eli hung his head. "Can you please – or better yet, ask Jake to when he gets back – you have too much on your hands with preparations – but ask him to please floo or owl her back and tell her it's immediate family only – just us kids and the aunties. The funeral is Monday because of the Sabbath, and she's welcome to come to that, obviously." Eli turned to Robert, smiled wanly, and took a deep breath, obviously fighting to keep the tears from flowing again. "Let's go downstairs."

Mrs. Dresner's apartment was, in a word, immaculate. It smelled sweet, like potpourri or scented candles. Robert let his eyes rove over every inch, every detail, of the expansive, rather old-fashioned living and dining room. There was no trace, no sign whatsoever showing that Mrs. Dresner and her family were magical. In fact, to a visitor, one would only think that Mrs. Dresner was a devout, orthodox Jewish widow who kept a very kosher house, and had a strong love for and strong ties to her family. There were photographs scattered on the upright piano, on the television, on the walls – all of Mrs. Dresner's much extended family.

_God, I'll miss that woman…so many people loved her._

Robert turned to Eli, preventing himself from being too distracted by his surroundings and his own ruminations. _Time to get down to business…"_So, what was it you wanted to show me?"

"Sit down," Eli ushered Robert to a soft, sagging couch covered in a number of parti-colored, hand-crocheted afghans. "I think you'll need to." Eli left the living room and walked into Mrs. Dresner's bedroom. A moment later, he emerged with an old, tattered shoebox full of papers. "Let me find it. Mom told me to make sure to give this to you immediately if anything ever happened to her. She never told me what exactly it was, just that it was a bunch of letters tied with a blue grosgrain…oh, here it is." Eli pulled the letters, tied with a ribbon, out of the box, and handed them over. Eli also removed another stack of papers, this one tied with a black ribbon, and shoved it in his back jeans pocket.

"Do these have anything to do with Tonks or Lestrange, because I really think we need to go and get that backup I was talking about."

"No, I don't think so, but hold on a minute, I think I need to explain something to you first."

"But, Eli – Tonks is out there, she's probably hurt, and I know who can…"

"I know, Robert, but this is too important. Mother insisted over and over again for the last ten years that this was a matter of utmost importance should something happen to her – she kept saying that you had to know the truth immediately if she couldn't be there to tell you."

"The truth? The truth about what? Can't the truth wait? What about finding Tonks?

Eli nodded resolutely in an attempt to calm Robert's growing anxiety. "We're working on it, Robert – and hard, trust me. We have nothing to go on yet, anyways. The USWPC is sweeping your house right now as we speak. They'll pick up on the Apparition signature, and they can trace that potion. Potion masters have ways to find out who made a potion and when. If we find any, we'll floo it right to Severus Snape in the UK. He's the best there is. If Lestrange sweat at all, there's probably traces of it on your bedclothes that Snape can sample. Those will be a start, but we will find her.

The USWPC may be short-handed, but they're looking to save one of their own, you know. Tonks is USWPC now, and she's a ranking officer, so it's personal. They're also setting up an anti-Apparition ward around your house, and they're closing off your fireplace, so no one can Apparate or floo in our out of there at least no one that's not USWPC or Auror, or someone you invite in."

Try as Eli might, Robert wasn't placated, not in the least. _The sooner we get this over, the better._ "Fine, okay, tell me, but please, make it quick."

"For about thirty years, my father, Moshe Dresner, was the principal at the American Academy of Wizarding Arts and Sciences in Chicago. When he passed away ten years ago after we moved here he left these letters to my mother's care, and told her to give them to you when she felt you were ready. You never met my father, but with all the talking my mom did about you since you came to Harvard as a student, he felt he knew you. Mom never let me see them, the letters, never let me read them, but I think, Robert, that these letters have something to do with you."

Eli handed the stack of letters to Robert, who took them gingerly between his bandaged fingers. He pulled clumsily at the ribbon, his hands still bound and quite immobile. The letters fell in an awkward cascade out of his hands and onto the floor. Robert scooted off the couch, and sat, splay-legged on the olive-green shag carpeting.

One letter in particular caught his immediate attention. "This is addressed to…to me, at our old house in Newington." He scooped up the envelope, looked at the date – July 21, 1968 – and pried the flap open. He pinched the letter with his index and middle fingers, and pulled it out. He fumbled with it, and it fell open into his lap.

As he read the letter, Robert's emotions welled up inside of him and spilled over. He flipped the letter over, and saw his father's scrawly handwriting – a response to the original letter. The response was scathingly angry, condescending, and somewhat insulting – quite typical of James Langdon. Robert's ire at his father now bubbling, and his curiosity increasing, he opened the next letter. This one was from his mother to Mr. Dresner. The tone of this one was quite the opposite of his father's almost apologetic, fearful, and full of sadness and regret. The next letter was again from Mr. Dresner, and the next, again, from Robert's father. That letter, the last one, dated August 25, 1968, carried the unmistakable tone of finality.

Robert let the final letter slip from his fingers and tumble to the floor. He sat against the couch, and crossed his legs in stunned silence. He let his hands slump into his lap, laying there limp and lifeless. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. Robert Langdon felt utterly and completely numb.

For the second time in the short span of eleven days, Robert's neat, tidy, and ordered world had been shaken – turned upside down and altered – so much that he no longer knew who he was or, this time, who his parents were. After reading these letters, he realized that he never really knew his family – that he had been living a lie all of his life. The thought of it sank deep inside him like a lead weight.

He couldn't stop blinking, couldn't stop the anger, the hatred, the whatever emotions he was feeling he didn't know from filling him up, overtaking him. Memories started flooding into his brain – painful, harsh childhood memories of loss, and moreover, guilt so heavy a child should never have to endure it.

On top of that, his hands and arms started burning fiercely. That physical pain paled in comparison to the slings and arrows flying around in his mind. _Why is it that nothing makes sense?_

"Robert," Eli broke the silence with a whisper. Eli's touch on Robert's shoulder brought him immediately out of his reverie, "are you okay? The letters what did they say?"

Robert unfolded his legs and angrily shoved the letters over toward Eli with his foot. "Read them for yourself, if you're so curious."

Eli didn't flinch at Robert's show of temper. "I think it would be better for you if you told me." He sat down on the floor next to Robert.

Robert nodded, his lips curled in extreme sarcasm. "You want to know? Fine." He pointed at the first letter. "See that? That's a letter from your father telling me – that damn letter was for me, not for my father to read – that I was accepted into the Academy because I had magical ability and I showed promise – me – I was magical back then, at age twelve I showed promise. The back of it – my father wrote to your father telling him to go pound sand. That one there…"

Robert pointed to the second letter. "That one there – that's from my mother to your father. She felt she had to apologize for my father, had to tell him that my father was a Muggle, that he didn't understand, and that what he said in the house was law. She reinforced my father's wishes, and asked that your father please not bother me again."

Robert pointed at the third, "That's from your father to my mother, reminding her about _her_ days at the Academy – crap, Eli – I thought my mother went to Brewster. My own mother, God dammit, she was a witch and I never knew it! No one ever told me!" Robert picked up the letter and whipped it like a frisbee across the room. The bandages around his wrist started to unravel.

"That last one, that last one is the topper, Eli." He picked up the letter and stood up, pacing the room like a caged animal. "This is from my dear, beloved, father again, telling Mr. Dresner that his son Robert James – yeah, me – that he would not go down the useless, rebellious path that his _older brother _did, and he would under no certain terms go to some Academy for freaks. My older brother – went to the Academy, and I didn't!" He wagged the letter in Eli's face.

He looked at the letter again, and slapped at it with the back of his bandaged hand. "Did you know that my father threatened your father in this letter – told him he would expose the secrets of entire wizarding world if your father didn't leave me alone. Trust me, James Langdon had enough clout that people would believe him. He said in this letter he would ensure that his son – his _only _son, he called me was going to have a normal life, go to a top prep school, be a top athlete, and get into Harvard if it was the last damn thing he did! Well, he got what he wanted, didn't he, the sanctimonious bastard. He got just what he wanted." Robert slumped back onto the couch.

Eli remained silent.

"Here's the kicker, Eli. My parents – my loving, wonderful, gave me anything I needed or wanted parents – they lied to me. Even after my father died, my mother kept up the lie. They told me my older brother – they told me he ran away when I was a kid. They told me he had left home, and he would never come back. I was only ten, for Christ's sake. I thought, in my ten-year old brain, that he hated me because I was so good at swimming and diving, and that's why he ran away – and my father _let_ me think that! They never God damn told me he bucked my father's orders and ran off to go to some wizarding school! They never told me I had this – this – talent, whatever you call it. They took it to their damn graves, Eli!" Robert placed the letter on the couch and stared at it. "They took it to their graves," he whispered.

Neither Eli nor Robert said anything for a long time. Robert Langdon was not normally one to sit and stew, but in this case, he had no choice. The truth was right in front of him. He couldn't deny it. He couldn't brush it off and call it a coincidence or a lie, or a fairy tale. Everything about the last few days confirmed this very moment. The revelation that Robert Langdon had carried magical abilities since birth came as less of a shock in light of the wandless magic he performed just yesterday, in light of the corporeal Patronus he had conjured, in light of his feelings for and attraction to Tonks.

Now it all made sense. Now he knew why Dumbledore was so insistent on giving Robert Blaise's wand, why the jokes about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Now he knew why he was so drawn to Tonks – their commonality, their shared ability, is why he loved her when he could truly love no other Muggle woman before.

_Ten damn days…Now eleven._

Now, more than ever, he really, really knew why he was able to survive in situations in which many people – _normal people_ – would have lost their lives. _Trapped in a well, trapped in an air-tight archive, trapped in a box, nearly drowning in a fountatin, falling from a helicopter, anti-matter annhiliation, fighting assassins…_

There was no utility in staying angry at his father – for long or feeling sorry for his mother, they were both dead. It was no use hurting anew over his brother's leaving. In fact, somewhere deep inside, Robert's ten-year old self was relieved that it wasn't his fault, after all. Carrying the negative feelings around, Robert knew, would only eat away at his own soul. Robert knew that the best thing for him right now would be to feel and to let his emotions out in the short term, and then in the long term, accept that truth, make it part of him, and move on with his life.

Since his father wasn't there to take the brunt of his anger, Robert picked on the next best thing. He scooped his father's horrible, threatening letter back up off the couch with a level of violence, and as best he could with bandaged hands crushed it against his chest, crumpling the thick, heavy stationery into a small, loosely packed ball. With a grunt of frustration, he hurled the offending letter overhand, like a baseball, toward the far corner of the room. Robert hadn't intended for the letter to make contact with anything. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to happen. Unfortunately, however, it did.

The wad of paper shot through the air like a bullet. It was surprisingly aerodynamic, given its loose packing. It hit square-on against a photograph perched in the center of the top of the television. Robert could have sworn that the picture was not in the letter's original trajectory – but that somehow, perhaps magically, the letter veered toward it. The photograph toppled over, falling backwards and disappearing out of sight behind the large tube and screen. Robert heard a pop, a clatter, and a crashing sound as the photograph and frame tumbled over the hard plastic, landing clumsily on its side onto the carpeted floor. Robert could immediately see that the frame and its protective glass were both shattered.

Robert closed his eyes and covered his face, his hands still shaking. His adrenaline waning, his hands began stinging again. "I'm so sorry, Eli. I didn't mean…ah, shit."

Robert once again felt Eli's comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Robert. Don't worry. It's not like you actually knocked _Jake_ on his _tuckas_. Frankly, I doubt you'd be able to." Eli crossed to the television, fished behind the stand, and extracted the picture, glass fragments, and wood pieces from the floor. He removed his wand from his pocket, aimed, and intoned, "_Repairo._" The component parts melded together again, each in their proper place. "No problem, Robert," Eli said as he replaced the photograph with extreme care on top of the television. "No problem whatsoever."

Robert moved next to Eli and peered at the image. It was a candid shot, partially blurred by a dirty lens, of a man about Eli's age. The man, with a rifle slung casually over his right shoulder, posed against what appeared to be a dusty, rudimentary military transport. He was dressed in a set of sand-covered, brownish-drab fatigues, some kind of combat vest, and high laced-up combat boots.

Robert couldn't discern many of the markings on the uniform, but he did notice what appeared to be a single maple leaf, a pin that looked like wings with a fleur-de-lis, and some Hebrew lettering on a badge. Unlike most of the pictures, where the family members, like Eli, were dark-eyed, swarthy, and very Middle-Eastern looking, the man in this photograph was decidedly Germanic.

Underneath the jauntily-cocked green beret, Robert saw a shock of dishwater blonde hair with traces of gray at the temples. The man's skin was extremely fair compared to the others, and his eyes were not dark brown. Rather, they were a deep, watery blue. His smile was the broad, infectious grin of a fun-loving college boy, showing off a handsomely-placed pair of dimples set in both cheeks. There was no doubt that there was something intriguing and rather charismatic about this man.

"That's the black sheep of the family, or the _white_ sheep, as we call him," Eli laughed. "Seriously, though, Jake's sort of adopted, if you can't already tell that. Mom and Dad took him in to live with us when we were kids. Jake and I we were best friends at the Academy – met our very first year, the very first day. Jake was such a troublemaker, but man, the scrapes he would get us out of," he chuckled, grinning with obvious love for the man. "All Jake'd have to do is flash that you-know-what eatin' grin at old lady Professor Davidson, and _boom_, we'd be home free."

Eli's laughter died, and his smile suddenly morphed into melancholy. "Something happened with his parents early on in our first year, though. What it was, I never knew for sure – Jake always kept quiet about it – he never talked about his family. Mom and Dad told us his parents had died in a magical accident of some kind. Somehow, though, I didn't think that was the whole story.

"What do you mean?" Robert asked, trying hard to hide his growing impatience. Obviously, Jake was important to Eli, and Robert did not want his bubbling anxiety over Tonks to be mistaken as rudeness – especially after all that the Dresners had done for him.

"Well, you know how adults always try and protect kids from horrible truths, to shelter them? I think it was worse, much worse, than just an accident. I always had this sort of suspicion, I guess you can call it, just from things that were said, that Jake's real parents were actually murdered by some Dark Wizard."

_Sounds like he's describing Harry Potter…._ Robert couldn't help but see the traces of a deep-seated disappointment and even, maybe, a hint of betrayal behind Eli's eyes. Despite this, his demeanor sparked up again, his thoughts obviously roving to a more happy time.

"Well, when we were in the tenth grade – about sixteen or so, he somehow got permission from the wizarding courts to change his name legally to Jacob Elisha Dresner – Elisha after me, of course," he smiled, "and my parents took him in as one of us boys."

"What was his name before that?"

"Well, it's always been Jake as far as I know. Honestly, it's been so long and I haven't used his last name since then, but I'm certain it was Williams. Jake Williams. I never knew his middle name. He never told me."

_A little secretive, too…now he really sounds like Harry Potter._

Eli squinted, apparently trying to ensure the correctness of his memory. "Yeah, that's it. Jake Williams. Anyhow, frankly, that day was the best day of my life. To have my best friend as an 'official' brother like a twin, almost that was the coolest."

Eli's eyes flashed with immense pride and a touch of admiration. "Now, Jakie-boy's one of those high-uppity guys in the Israeli Defense Force – a Rav Seren – a Major in the intelligence division. Mom was always so proud of him. For some reason, he decided to go all Muggle on us after he left the Academy. I never truly understood that guy or his motives," Eli shrugged. "You can ask him yourself, he's here. He's just went out for a bit with my other brothers to get the arrangements together. I'll introduce you."

At that moment, Janie entered the apartment, brandishing a pair of scissors and a white towel. "Your hour's up, Robert. Ready to get those bandages off?"

Robert shoved his hands toward Janie. "Yes, please. They do itch, in fact, by the way, they itch like crazy. Please get this crap off of me so we can get out of here and find Tonks."


End file.
